The emerging writer opens her refrigerator door, reaching blindly for the green bottle of Belgian lager. She lets the chilled bottle ground her in the comfort of her own kitchen. The old cabinet drawer refuses her access to the bottle opener. Undisturbed by the small inconvenience, she places the bottle lid at the edge of the kitchen counter and smacks it with her fist.
The cold bottle rim touches the writer’s lips. She lets out a sigh of pleasure as the beer soothes her throat, hoarse from teaching all day. Then, she heads to her desk, where a few more hours of work await.
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