Letters from Prohibition: Secret Ingredient is Crime

Standing on the creaking deck of your vessel, you're immersed in the salty mist of the roaring twenties. Crates upon crates of beer bottles, the forbidden elixir of the times, stacked high in the moonlight. With a trusty lantern in hand, you meticulously inspect each crate, knowing that the moon's gentle glow can reveal shadows and secrets on the weathered wooden surface. In this clandestine trade, you've learned to trust no one.

You pry open a crate, its lid revealing a treasure trove of beer bottles carefully nestled in straw. You examine labels, check bottle seals, and taste a drop for good measure. It's a delicious defiance of the law, and you can't help but savour it. Each crate receives your undivided attention, as every bottle could be a potential risk. You've become a master of this covert art, capable of spotting even the subtlest of irregularities.

As the first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, a sigh of relief escapes your lips. The law remains deceived, at least for now. You steer your ship toward the rising sun, feeling the weight of your secret cargo, the exhilaration of flouting the rules, and the satisfaction of outsmarting the authorities. In this era of Prohibition, you are the captain of your destiny, skillfully navigating the turbulent seas of a world gone mad.