He woke up in sweat and alcohol dripping on his bed and he groaned as he propped himself up on his elbow for just long enough to screw the lid back onto the Hennessey bottle. And then he allowed gravity drag him back to the bed and he sighed.
That was a funny word. Happiness.
When was the last time he was happy?
Truly happy not just drowning in alcohol happy. The real stuff. The good stuff that made you wake up in the morning and believe in goodness. The thing that made you move, made you strive for the possibility of a better day.
When was the last time he felt anything, anything but pure absolute dread?
His father had left his mother and his fours siblings for another woman and started another life. He had left them penniless and poor. He had left them with something missing in their lives, something they could never get back.
When was the last time he was happy, he asked himself?
And himself answered. With her.
But she was dead now. He brought the bottle to his mouth and chugged it until it was empty and his thoughts swam in the brown murky liquid.
But she was dead now.
And he was alive.
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