Jake

"Yes, sir. I'll have another. Thank you"
The cool beer touched his lips and he felt it down his throat. Jake stood next to them looking down at the chopped wood. The axe lay next to him on the ground, and the sweat dripped down his back. His face was hot. His beard covered most of his face, and the heat was almost unbearable. He took another sip. The can was empty, so he popped another.

 It had  been three years since his sister Geraldene died, and he spent most of his days doing odd jobs. From dawn into the afternoon. He would wake in the early morning while it was still dark. Sneak out of the house, and drive down to the Mansion if he had the money. His hands shook on the drive, but he knew it would stop soon enough. He wasn't an alcoholic, he just enjoyed a drink. Despite what the neighbors and others though.

"If you's isn't gonna keep them cans, I'll take em' and recycle em."
"Sure, pal."
Jake felt the sweat on his face run down into the wrinkles on his face as he cracked a smile.
By the afternoon, he was staggering. He felt good though. He was happy. His belly was full, but he hadn't eaten. He was never hungry until later in the evening after Mary cooked dinner.

That afternoon around 3 o'clock, he staggered into the house, covered in the dust of his labors, stinking of beer and sweat. "Afternoon." He managed as he lumbered past Mary and her son.

He had sold the cans as his payment for his days labor and drank value of his empties that afternoon before returning home.
Exhausted, he laid down, and fell asleep.

"Some day that bum will drink himself to death." Mary murmured to herself.