By Pablo Greene
Chapter 1 — My Superhero Fetish
My name is Roland.
On the night of my twenty-eighth birthday, my friends took me out for dinner. We shared heaps of enchiladas, frosty bottles of beer, limes on the rim. I tossed back a couple of shots. I blew out candles on a red velvet cake, and our waitress led all of us at the table in an off-key rendition of the happy birthday song. Earlier, I had left my car at home on purpose, because I knew I would have a beer or two at the restaurant. By the time we paid the bill, I had drunk seven bottles and downed four shots. I walked home from dinner alone, comforted by the false safety provided by my cell phone and the gauzy softness of my whiskey buzz.
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