Chapter 1 (sort of)

By now all you know is to call me Fingerling. And that I like vodka.

There’s something about vodka that intrigues me.  It’s somewhat hidden, or mysterious. You can’t smell its presence lingering behind like its comrades and competitors.  It doesn’t taint a person’s breath.  For all anyone knows,  I’ve been drinking water.  For that, I, too, remain … well, you get the idea.

It’s 5:22.

When I was little time used to fascinate me.  In a sense, it didn’t exist outside of major milestones: waking up,  lunch,  nap, dinner,  bath,  bed time,  etc.  But the “time” in between seemed infinite.  Endless activities and fun could occur between any of those milestones.  What happened?  When did time become so damn important and why does it never seem like there’s enough for everyone anymore? 

With that said,  it’s time to go. 

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