The crowd was small but tuned in. The jokes were landing smooth as the Blue Angels at an air show.
“Thanks for coming, goodnight,” the Irish girl with the Irish guy’s name said, and the applause followed her backstage like a stalker.
She’s the type of person who soaks her Cracker Jack in bourbon, because the shortcut to happiness is realizing that life is a drinking game on a stage you glued together from hopes and fears, and there’s no orange light that blinks to tell you got one more minute left. It’s all the minutes that count. Don’t forget.
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Photo by Charles "Duck" Unitas on Unsplash