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why my arm hurts today
or why i love booze so much.
by daniel castro

I faintly remember skidding across the avenue, drunk and reckless, and the bottle of vodka sliding out of my grasp. The sound of you laughing collided with the shattering glass and the spill on the dirty sidewalk. I saw headlights (or at least something just as abrasive and blinding) and I heard a car's honk (or a saxophone holding a very muffled note), with what seemed like tires screeching. Kind of like a thudded blow on my left shoulder and a slip to the ground, neon bar signs like Christmas lights and Doppler fading behind. And I remember laying there on my back, chuckling on that cold and wet asphalt ground. Feeling the raindrops fall on my face. I don't know how long I stayed there. It could've been a split second, just taking it all in, waiting to catch up with myself. Your face slipped into frame, panicking, asking somebody for a cell phone to call the ambulance. I laughed it off, and tried my best to stand back up. You tried your best to help me but we both fell back, laughing like a couple of drunken idiots. Voices called us back to the safety of the bar. Your jeans were all wet and stained from that fall in the mud twenty minutes ago.

It seems we just couldn't remain standing for too long that night.


Great, outgoing guy in his mid 20's. Works and parties hard. Obsessed with music. Oh wait, this isn't match.com

more about daniel castro


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