Warm Beers
A streak of sunlight hits the windshield, so hot and bright I find myself in a headachy dream state that drags my concentration away. The white sunlight reminds me of the ‘jetty days’, age 14 through to 17. Every summer afternoon all five of us boys would go down there, eager to seem fearless as we drank shitty warm beers and backflipped off the railings. We would stand, sprawled against the thick wooden sun-bleached beams and attempt to pull the older girls from the college. They didn’t pay much attention to us. Back then, none of us had jobs, it was the end of year ten, our first summer without school, we were keen to not let anyone take away our newfound freedom. None of us wanted to continue with school, it just didn’t suit us.
