🎇Alone [Fast Fiction]🎆 the most wintery of nights has nothing to do with temperature and has everything to do with temperature.”
“The coldest, darkest, and
Jim sat alone in his apartment in Brussels drinking a Stella Artois beer. He had already consumed six beers, evidenced by the empty beer bottles strewn across his living room floor. Some bottles were standing up, and some were on their sides. He could have been drinking beers of higher quality such as Duvel or Westmalle. He was in Belgium after all, one of the best countries in the world for beer.
It was November 10th, and the temperature had dropped to 9 degrees Celsius in the evening, but it felt colder, much colder. He finished the last Stella Artois and fell asleep while holding the last beer bottle in his hand.
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