Monday, May 5, 2025

Cinco de Modelo

 It was Cinco de Mayo, and Todd—29 years old, unemployed, and completely indifferent to the holiday’s cultural meaning—stood in his steamy shower with a cold Modelo in hand. The bathroom echoed with the hiss of running water and the occasional belch as he worked through his second beer before breakfast. He had no plans, no responsibilities, and figured, “Why not spend the day drunk?”
















As the morning turned to midday, Todd stayed in that haze, downing bottle after bottle. But sometime around beer number seven, things started feeling… strange. His chest hair thickened. His pale skin took on a deeper, sun-warmed tan. His face felt tighter somehow, the bones shifting underneath, cheekbones broadening while a salt-and-pepper beard itched its way into existence.

By the tenth beer, Todd was stumbling to his mirror, trying to rub the blur out of his eyes—but the reflection staring back wasn’t him. His long, wet hair had shortened and slicked back. His once-lazy, scruffy jawline was now full and masculine, with a proud smile and deep laugh lines etched from years of living. The Modelo clinked as it slipped from his hand and rolled across the tile.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t even panic. Something about the golden buzz from the beer, or maybe whatever curse had soaked into the bottle caps, was softening his mind. Memories rewrote themselves. The apartment was no longer a bachelor’s cluttered cave but a warmly decorated home. The faded band tees in the laundry basket became silk-patterned button-downs. Photos on the wall shifted—no more selfies of Todd in his twenties. Now they showed a cheerful middle-aged man at family barbecues, laughing with nieces and nephews, dancing with a woman who called him “mi amor.”

He blinked, confused for a moment, holding a fresh beer in the midday sun. Then he smiled. “¡Salud!” he said to a friend across the patio, raising his bottle. Todd was gone. Now there was only Esteban—a proud Mexican man in his mid-50s with a cold Modelo in his hand and no memory of ever being anyone else.




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