“Merry Christmas to all,” said Jonathan, drunkenly raising his glass.
The party erupted in laughter as he set it back down and promptly passed out. His cheek fell on my shoulder, and he did not stir when I shoved him to the other side of the sofa.
It was a game, and a bet, and a dare. We were all playing. Each of us had a colorful drink in hand, and when someone took a sip, we toasted their health. Fourteen of the twenty-one glasses were safe, but the poison was odorless, colorless, tasteless.
And now it was my turn.