My aunt's famous three-tiered Jell-O mold was already wobbling when I arrived at the outdoor BBQ. The last time I was this close to my second cousins, I was 14 and wearing a Nirvana t-shirt. Uncle Bob handed me a lukewarm IPA and whispered that it was "the good stuff." I took a long swig, feeling the condensation on the can seep into my sweatshirt pocket. My eyes landed on Alex from accounting, holding court at the grill with my high school ex-girlfriend's cousin, whose name I still don't remember.
3