I've been a moonshiner for seventeen long years [dated *mid-April]

[aintthatbad]

Skinny loves this setup. The moonshine gives him a schedule; it gives him something to do with his hands and his time that isn't books and classes and theory and arguments. He gets to spend time out in the woods, and he gets a fine and useful product at the end of it. It's relaxing, and if he can't have home, at least he can have this

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[thewordofweb]

I had thought when I had trekked my way out here that I would be alone. That I would suffer the heat and the smell to have a drink and brood to the epiphany of what I'm ensconced in, what I've let myself get buried deep into. He's got me by the heart and there's nothing to be done about it.

I let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip and peer blearily at Skinny. "Maybe I should have slept around," I say, apropos of nothing.

[aintthatbad]

Skinny lowers himself onto the nearest log and focuses on untwisting his lid.

"There's a lot to be said for it," he says, straining against the tight metal. "I can regale you with stories and wisdom if you'd like."

[thewordofweb]

I rub at my forehead with the heel of my hand, mouth open as I try to compose my thoughts. Mid-afternoon isn't exactly the time to get drunk, but the truth is that this hit me so hard that it feels like I've been suckerpunched.

"He's not going to be okay with this," I say, quietly, a whispered admission.

[aintthatbad]

The lid comes off, and Skinny relaxes with a satisfied exhalation.

"Tell him I led you astray," he says, smirking. "Jesus, Web, ain't like Joe's never had a few while the sun's still up. Quit your squirming and enjoy the damn drink."

Skinny proceeds to lead by example, with relish.