My father and I crossed paths in the hallway outside of my room earlier. He was drunk and so was I. He held his cup taking sips in between our conversation about my future. I hung on to the pull up bar hanging at the treshold of our laundry room as he drank and talked, acting like I wasn't as drunk as he was. We played our parts well. He was serious and lend me what should be his sober advice and I nodded and agreed the way I would if the wine hadn't found me. I am just like my father. All I hope for is to never earn a beer belly the way he has. Otherwise, I'd gladly and honorably be just like him
