He twirled the warm, half-full bottle around and around in his hands, picking at the label without peeling it off. It had been twenty-four hours since he had started drinking and he knew he had to stop. He took another swig of the bottle’s bitter contents. He didn’t even like beer. The old man had gotten him to drink vodka from the freezer, and he remembered his twelve-year old self being able to drink several glasses of the cold, almost tasteless alcohol before he eventually passed out, as he inevitable did.