He barely survived the trip home due to the obscene temperature outside. Walking in, he turned on the kitchen light to a loud pop and a flash. Darkness. Letting out a loud sigh he walked right back to the elevator. He checked the temperature again-- negative twenty. When the doors opened on the first floor he was wrapped up, buttoned up, and burnt out himself.
Light bulbs had been on his list for a month. Strolling by a freshly stocked cooler an imaginary one clicked on above his head. He grabbed two bottles of Squirt soda out of pure defiance to the weather. He found the real bulbs and a bright green lime in the produce section before checking out.
A few minutes later he screwed in the new bulb above the kitchen island and instantaneously he was bathed in warm incandescent light. It was the most heat he felt on his face in a month. He hopped down, grabbed a Collins glass, and got to work.
In the glass, he poured a heavy share of clear tequila and added a few solid ice cubes. He cut the lime in two and used his hand to squeeze one of the halves into the tall glass. A bottle opener made quick work of the soda cap and after topping off the drink he sprinkled a pinch of kosher salt on top.
He took a long swig and it tingled with pinpricks of acidity and sweetness all the way down his throat. For years he tried making a Paloma from scratch but nothing came close to cheap grapefruit soda. He turned off the lights and felt the warming effects of the tequila slowly creeping up behind his eyes.
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Bar To Home
A simple translation from bar to home.