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When I was five years old I developed a skill. It was a cold windy day and because we were poor I didn’t know what warmness meant in the winter. There was always unwelcoming coldness seeping in somewhere through the few clothes I wore. So I learnt how to make a fire. I was elated when red sparks jumped from the wood I was rubbing violently against each other. I finally found something I could do for myself. As my dad went away alot, working, drinking and having s*x with homeless woman. That’s how he got stuck with me, but luckily he learned his lesson being more protective because I don’t have any siblings. Or so it seems. On my sixth birthday my dad bought me a beer. I didn’t think much about it, but being so poor, I learned to always be thankful. I didn’t drink it until a fe
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