“Sometimes I get so stressed I think I might take up drinking,” I told her, looking at the ice cubes packed into my water. Who even does that in the winter?

“Well I know I could never ever do that! I mean, I wish I could but I just can’t, you know?” Amy sighed, shook her head. “I’m just one of those people who can’t ever drink.”

“Really?” I tried sipping the edges of the glass. Very cold. “Like, glass of wine at the end of the day? Seems kind of nice.”

“Oh.” She sat up straight, eyed me. “Oh that. Well. I mean, that’s not really drinking, is it? I mean, everyone has some wine at the end of the day. Or when you’re starting a bad shift at work. That isn’t really considered drinking.”


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