"We decided," Sarah announced, swaying slightly and leaning heavily against the doorframe, "that Tuesday is the new Saturday."
"The best part of being a 'woman of a certain age,'" Jules said, pouring a splash of gin into a glass of tonic Martha had provided, "is that the 'certain' part means we finally know exactly who we are. And who we are tonight is a group of friends who deserve a drink and a laugh." drunken mature women
Standing on her porch were her three best friends since college—Sarah, Elena, and Jules. They were in what Elena called their "Golden Era," which usually meant they had more disposable income and less patience for uncomfortable shoes. Tonight, however, they were also decidedly tipsy. "We decided," Sarah announced, swaying slightly and leaning
The doorbell chimed with a rhythmic, slightly off-beat persistence. When Martha opened it, she was met with a chorus of giggles and the unmistakable, sweet-tart scent of cheap margaritas. Tonight, however, they were also decidedly tipsy
They settled into Martha’s living room, a space usually curated for calm, which was quickly overtaken by kicked-off heels and the clinking of glasses. Elena, a high-powered attorney by day, was currently attempting to demonstrate a yoga pose she’d learned that morning, which resulted in her gently rolling onto the rug while laughing so hard no sound came out.