1.
I had no idea what to expect . . .
When I was told they were going to send me to A.A meetings, I pictured dimly lit rooms, and round wooden tables with old men sitting quietly on matching wooden chairs.
I imagined they sat without speaking—and I figured everyone smoked with a lit cigarette either dangling from their lip as the smoke curled upwards, or perhaps they leaned over with an elbow on the table and the cigarette fit between their pointer and forefinger.
I imagined a room filled with Continue reading
