EVERYONE’S WEARING PANTS, everyone has either wine or hard liquor. You’d expect craft beers and usually there are, but not tonight. I take my coat and I put it on the coat rack, which is full. I go to stand beside Tim, who is a comfortable person to stand beside when first entering a party. Tim has a stain on his sweater, so I point to the stain, and raise an eyebrow.
“Red wine,” he says. “There was a calamity earlier.”
I laugh; calamity’s a funny word.
We’re almost thirty now.