Jean-Rene Gauchet saw his sister lying under the old maple tree at the corner of the yard. It looked like she was asleep; that was, until he got closer. Then he could see the pile of empty beer bottles beside her. He walked toward her carefully.
“Michelle?” he called softly. “Michelle?” Not getting a response, he hunkered down beside her. The smell of beer was strong. Even the cool morning breeze didn’t dissipate it. It looked like she’d slept here all night.
“Michael!” he said loudly. “Wake up!” He shook her, at first gently, then more strongly when he didn’t get a response.
“Allez-vous en,” she finally mumbled, her alcohol-induced stupor still holding consciousness at bay. “Go away.”
Jean-Rene chuckled to himself. How long since he’d seen his sister this drunk? It reminded him of all
