The buzzer sounded, and the game was over. To be honest, the game was over at half time, but nobody wanted to say it. He switched off the television and walked towards the kitchen. Passing the bedroom, he could see that she had already dozed off. He quietly closed the door.
It was past his bedtime, but it isn't every day your college basketball team advances to the Elite Eight. It certainly isn't every day that your college basketball team beats your wife's college basketball team to advance to the Elite Eight. A celebratory drink of some sort was in order.
The digital clock on the microwave tried to dissuade him from making a cocktail, but he didn't take orders from appliances. He grabbed a bottle of Fino Sherry they had opened last week and a bottle of sweet vermouth out of the fridge. He stealthy put a couple of pieces of ice in the empty pint glass he had been drinking water out of during the game and added both liquids--two parts sherry to one part vermouth. A dash of orange bitters completed the build.
He stirred the mixture with a set of chopsticks he found tucked in the silverware drawer. The sherry smelled nutty as it wafted out of the glass. From the freezer, he grabbed a chilled coupe and strained the orange-red drink into it. He dropped an orange peel in the glass. The Adonis was reminiscent of a Texas sunset.
Back in the living room by the turntable he took a sip and set the drink down on the window sill. Looking through the records, E - F - G - H, he found what he was looking for: Holly. He placed the needle at track five, side B. Keeping the volume low he stood by the windows with his cocktail and looked out at the tall buildings while Buddy sang "Rave on!" Chicago was a long way from Lubbock. Wreck 'em Tech.
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Bar To Home
A simple translation from bar to home.