Red Sweater

I think God must have planted Red sweater in that meeting. It couldn't have gone any other way. I was forty-four years old, had been a drunk for thirty years, and no one could tell me anything. Red Sweater triggered something in that meeting. It was my second meeting, just forty-eight hours after the first, and I got called on. I cut loose with all the hate I could muster and aimed it all at the Red Sweater. He looked to be in his seventies and I figured I could whip him.