My Good Sponsor

IT WAS SOME thirteen years ago, but I can remember every detail as though it happened only a few hours ago. I was in a railroad station, looking out and across the street, waiting for a package-store owner to open up shop. My body was trembling, and my sense of balance was so bad that each step required muscular direction--and I was sober. But I had picked up that first drink after a six-month dry period, and now the most important thing in my life was to get a bottle.