ALESSANDRO
“Let’s go again.” I laughed. “Come on, I’ll count this time.”
She sighed and dropped the shot she just gulped, then, she turned to me with sweat on her pretty face and smiled a warm smile, the smile of a drunk friend indeed.
“Okay.” She came mild.
We picked the shots.
“One, two, three, go!” I hollered.
We gulped once more. The shots were all overturned now, we’ve finished all the concoctions the barman mixed for us, so, what next, if not joining the crowd of French-speaking citizens and dancing our worries away if we had any?
“Do you want more?” the barman asked. Maybe my ten-dollar can buy a lot more, or, he wanted more ten-dollar notes. I had a couple of them in my pocket after I was told that some Africans would rather accept the dollar with a smile tha
