Drunken Dreaming

Dorothy Recovers

I refilled my glass, the red intoxication lusting into my nostrils, burrowing down my throat, tingling on my tongue. I drank and refilled. The mind-numbing euphoria intensified with each gulping pleasure. I refilled again.

“I’ve got to stop,” I said into the void, as another glassful went down my throat. I refilled again.

“I can’t stop,” I whispered. “I just can’t stop.” I refilled again.

The wine glass shook in my hand as I walked toward the sink to pour out the rest, my neurons buzzing with alcohol. I don’t have to tell anyone. No one will know. I’ll dump out the rest and use breath-mints and slip out the door. 

I tucked my head and avoided eye contact as I passed by sober friends. The door. It’s right there. The door. Out the door. Sleep it off. No one will know. I can still keep my two-year coin. No…

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