Three Floors of Love
August 2016 | On the Cover

Three Floors of Love

He’ll never forget his first year sober in that beloved old St. Louis clubhouse

The bottle touches my lips and peppermint schnapps fills my mouth. It tastes of liquid misery as the sickeningly sweet odor of peppermint fill my nose. That is the vivid memory I hold of my last drink, more than 20 years ago and, I hope, forever.

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