She is everything I am not, and she is about to beat me at canasta.
She rearranges her cards and prepares for my execution, looking up from her hand at my apprehensive face. "Sorry," she says, "but I'm too drunk not to smile," and she puts on a small, perfectly satisfied smile.
"How much have you had to drink? Like, how many shots?" I ask.
She lets out an exhale and puts down her cards.
"Well," she says, looking up as she thinks, "I had a G and T with dinner..." She puts up two fingers.
"...wine..." Three fingers.
"...a margarita..." Four fingers.
"...wait, two margaritas..." Five fingers.
"...I think I took a vodka shot at some point..."Six fingers.
"...more wine..." Seven fingers.
"...and then this," she says, gesturing to her drink on the table, "is another G and T."
She looks down at her fingers and smiles a different smile. "Nine shots," she says, looking back up at me, and picks her hand back up.
What I know about nine shots is kissing my best friend and puking twice into a Tupperware. I give up trying to calculate how many points are counting against me as I watch her deftly begin to lay down her cards.
She shows me red canastas, nary a wild card in sight, pure and true.
1 comment:
It's hard to tell if this is true or not which is really cool but also kind of scary
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