Spirit Wave

Granddad left my family with a cabinet of the best Irish whiskey he accumulated over 80 yrs. Clear and potent, almost like a witch’s brew we always dreamed of tasting when ever dad cracked open a bottle. Its scent wound round the house gut-punching any unsuspecting fellow.
it crept into my room a fortnight ago, punching the breathe outta my weary lungs. invading my tiny, book clustered single window room.
A single whiff and he was here, body, soul and full gusto. Just like old times, i and my grandpa played away time with card games. Who says who have to drink spirits to see Spirits.


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