We drove to the beach with our jackets on and a backpack full of cheap leftover beer.

I knew you would talk most of the time, ill just listen drinking whats the remains of the honey mead.

I focused on the honey sweet taste more than your words, drinking them in and letting my step fumble and my little words slur.

A cold Florida winter at a chilling 52 degrees, thickening our blood and seeing our beer cold enough to drink.