beer glass

There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty.
The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What’s up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don’t think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass! Who’s been pinching my beer?
—  Terry Pratchett - The Truth
Vive el Momento (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Requested: No, but @illuminateshawn and I live for drunk, festival Mendes in that red shirt from Amsterdam.

Word count: 4,947

“Can I have three large beers, thanks” I smiled, handing the girl in front of me my money. The sun was burning into my back, heating up my entire body slowly.

“I just love this weather” my friend Julia said. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to fully enjoy the warm rays of sun burning in her face.

“Me too” I agreed, looking around the festival filled with drunk people having fun everywhere.

To me, this was what summer was all about; heat, friends, music and beers. Actually, going to festivals was my happy place, I loved the whole idea of just letting go and enjoy yourself as much as possible; meeting new people and staying up until the early hours when the sun rose again.

“Girl, don’t look now but that guy… he’s looking again” Julia laughed, taking of her black sunglasses.

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