“Dad, you in here?” Santi asked, walking into the apartment he shared with his father. His father, a man in his mid 60's who could pass for 50 walked out of the backroom. As usual his crisp white shirt and brown slacks where ironed to perfection.
“What?” He asked, walking past his son and to the refrigerator. Santi shook his head at the old man as he pulled out a beer and began to drink it.
“The doctor says you're not supposed to drink.” Santi tsking, his father just laughed.
“If I die, I’m okay with it.” He said, handing his son a beer. Santi laughed and took the bottle.
“Come on, there's someone downstairs who wants to see you.” He said, drinking his beer in a few long swigs before tossing it into a nearby trash can.
“Oh yea? Who?” His father said, walking to a window above the liv
