You did not know me. The day had begun like any other. Waking up with a faint feeling of dread. Wishing I could pull the bedcovers back over my head and retreat back into the safety of sleep. As always, I spent a few minutes
We started laughing. The two of us had been waiting in the restaurant bar, drinking the product, when the commercial appeared on the television above us. And of course Stephen’s parents were from Russia: An old man with a white beard and round glasses is
Awake…again. Sober…again. I slowly sit up, the sunlight fighting a war against my mind. For some reason my eyelids seem ineffective against its vicious invasion. With the morning’s bitter attack of sobriety comes the realisation that the pain that is usually so effectively masked by
The bottle sits there mostly untouched, even though it’s been hours since Dal cracked the seal. No one’s got the heart for it, I guess. The little wooden nesting dolls just sit there, blank and dumb. Cat said they’re for divination but nothing’s been divined.
There’s a bottle of unbranded vodka on the table, and nothing much else. Nothing much else in here at all, in fact. The room is another nameless motel room, in another faceless motel. Paid for in cash from a bundle left for me by the
“Saturday Night” by Suzi Rose