265/365 05/14/2026

Before he had stopped drinking, the dirty martini had been a day’s balm for Roger Styles, a mark to end each day. The first, deliciously bright and briny. Ice cold and the flavors of olive, juniper, bright citrus dancing their olfactory boogie as he savored the first and second sips. The second, third and forth martinis of an evening provided less delight as the taste became inconsequential, but each kept the mood up and the party going as he rode the wave of inhibition that allowed him to feel the feelings he’d lived so much of his life deeply afraid to feel.