Off-campus party junior year. Tequila: salt, shot, lime. Later, at the town bar, I flash my fake Indiana ID ordered from an ad at the back of MAD Magazine. My roomie, Amy, doesn’t have one, but she pulls something from her coat pocket and the bouncer lets her in. The next day, I awaken across the room from her, still in her clothes under the covers, her coat in a heap on the floor. When the midday sun wakes her, I ask, “What did you show the bouncer?” She shakes her head, pulls the paper out. “It’s my grocery list.”
Katherine Briccetti is a Pushcart-nominated essayist and the author of Blood Strangers, a LAMBDA Literary Award finalist. She is at work on a novel. katherinebriccetti.com