My great-aunt Lorraine passed away recently. I hadn’t seen her in a few years. The next couple sentences describe the last time I saw her.

Family reunion over the weekend at my uncle’s. Great-aunt Lorraine pulls a plastic bag from her purse. It’s clear. There are seven single serving bottles of scotch. She says, “I just get tired of going places and there’s only wine. It also comes in handy if the event is boring.” She pours it into a small glass of ice and drinks.


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