Post by Viempar on Feb 15, 2008 23:32:17 GMT 1
Stepping forwards, vision blurred with the tears of alcohol. The sorrow of seeing through the blurred bottom of a glass, alone once again. One step forwards always seeming like ten steps backwards. Her life? Going nowhere. Her future? Short at the very most. Her end? She would be the one to determine how she would die, not this stupid fate everyone keeps talking about. She was at her lowest, but apparently at her prime. At 25, she was at her most beautiful, her smartest and most successful phase in her life.
So why was she jobless, in debt and above all; single? Perhaps it was because she wallowed in the bar, staring into the bottom of her glass every night, even though the reason for staring into her empty glass was because she was alone. The vicious cycle of ‘I’ll have one more’ instead of stopping, resisting and surging forwards into a new direction, taking a risk.
“Any more?” The bartender asked her, a kindly look making her heart melt and convincing her to have another, just so he might gain something from her sorrow.
“I’ll have one more.” She said, digging into her pockets and pulling out coins. She examined them much too closely as the colour swung in her drunken vision. How many had she had? Only too many to count…
“I think it’s time you went home, love.” He said to her. His kindly offer was confronted with her stubborn brown eyes, rimming with kohl eyeliner, running halfway down her cheeks towards her pale pink lips, rimmed with a darker liner, done in the scramble of a bathroom light.
“I’ll run you home. Mike? Mike! I’m running Mira home, take over the pub for a while.” He rubbed his hands on a beer stained cloth and opened the bar, catching Mira as she swayed unsteadily on the bar stool.
“It’s alright love. You just go for a snooze in the car, I know where you live.” He said. Not only was he the local bartender, he was also her neighbour and probably only friend.
“I uwanna goome.” She muttered from beneath her falling lids. He ignored her protests end exited the shop with a ring. The bell above the door fell silent as the night outside, only the echoes of death echoing the pale and empty streets. Mira was a ghost of her former self, and soon this would be much too much of a reality.
So why was she jobless, in debt and above all; single? Perhaps it was because she wallowed in the bar, staring into the bottom of her glass every night, even though the reason for staring into her empty glass was because she was alone. The vicious cycle of ‘I’ll have one more’ instead of stopping, resisting and surging forwards into a new direction, taking a risk.
“Any more?” The bartender asked her, a kindly look making her heart melt and convincing her to have another, just so he might gain something from her sorrow.
“I’ll have one more.” She said, digging into her pockets and pulling out coins. She examined them much too closely as the colour swung in her drunken vision. How many had she had? Only too many to count…
“I think it’s time you went home, love.” He said to her. His kindly offer was confronted with her stubborn brown eyes, rimming with kohl eyeliner, running halfway down her cheeks towards her pale pink lips, rimmed with a darker liner, done in the scramble of a bathroom light.
“I’ll run you home. Mike? Mike! I’m running Mira home, take over the pub for a while.” He rubbed his hands on a beer stained cloth and opened the bar, catching Mira as she swayed unsteadily on the bar stool.
“It’s alright love. You just go for a snooze in the car, I know where you live.” He said. Not only was he the local bartender, he was also her neighbour and probably only friend.
“I uwanna goome.” She muttered from beneath her falling lids. He ignored her protests end exited the shop with a ring. The bell above the door fell silent as the night outside, only the echoes of death echoing the pale and empty streets. Mira was a ghost of her former self, and soon this would be much too much of a reality.