He took the bottle down from the top shelf and sat down in his favorite chair and looked at it. The curves, the cold feel; he opened it and sniffed the contents. Strong. It does the trick though. And with that he took a big gulp and felt the sting in his throat, the burn in his chest, and his eyes water. Soon to be forgotten will everything be. Hey, good job Yoda. And up went the music and up went the apathy to the phone which kept on ringing. It doesn't matter as long as you keep telling yourself that over and over again, even though it does matter and you'll never get over it. Never will you get over it. He sat with his head back and staring at the window. The blinds were closed, but it didn't matter, he knew exactly what was out there. He knew what it would look like. The weather's clear and everything will be green. The fences are brown and the trees are tall. He shrugged and drank more cognac. Thoughts began to flood his head. Old memories of special people, whom he was walked all over and let go. Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Where are you now? What are you thinking? Do you ever think of me? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He dug around his desk and found a crumpled piece of paper. An old letter stained with spilled beer and half torn and a big piece of it was missing. The sentences were all broken fragments of words once said by someone... But who? And as he read the words he could her the voice of the author. The voice rang clearly in his head and he drank some more cognac. Then the face appeared through the letters and the warmth from her arms wrapped around him swirled him around in his chair. Another drink, another toast to the times when I was alive. He put it in his desk drawer, to keep forever and ever and never let go. Never. He got up and felt tipsy from the cognac and layed down on the floor, staring at the ceiling fan that spun around and around, clockwise. Clockwise in never-ending circles. Spin, spin, spin you fool! The music needs to be louder. I can't hear with all the commotion. What commotion? Nobody is home and the only sound is the music. Ahh, but there's more isn't there? You can still hear her scream, can't you? Yeah you can. You can still hear her scream and you will never forget her and she will haunt you for the rest of your life and what can you do about it? Miss her. Miss her and wish you could just see her again. My, my, my, oh my. What has become of us? What have we done?

And it was all over. He laid there on the floor and closed his eyes, getting drunk off of his thoughts, off of her, off of her eyes, and he slept.

Sorry, you do not have permission to comment.

If you are a member, try logging in again or accessing this page here.