After the team’s celebratory pizza and soda, Jacob took Roger home. As they walked in the door, Jacob asked his son into the study.
He poured him a very small glass of the Laphroaig, enough for the ritual of his son’s first drink with his dad.
They clinked glasses, two gentlemen in their wing chairs. “Congratulations, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Roger wasn’t and wouldn’t be a drinker, and hated the…
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