When I began tipping the bottle back, it was intended to numb the pain, the pleasure. I don’t normally drink, but tonight I wanted the whole bottle. I didn’t even bother with a glass. Straight bourbon to still torrential emotions. Halfway through I wept. I don’t remember when the sobs turned to laughter, but it didn’t last long.
Now, the bottle is empty and I cannot remember why I needed it in the first place. I cannot even remember what I look like. I tried looking in the mirror, but I must have broken it. That explains all the blood.
This post was written based upon this week's 100 word prompt (pleasure) from velvet verbosity.
