Vedant
She’s not there when I return.
A part of me had hoped against the odds that Chiara would still be there when I got back despite the late hour. But of course she’s not. She has a life outside of me.
But what’s still there—and might be of some comfort to me—is my father’s liquor cabinet.
Well, it’s not like he’ll be needing it anymore.
I pour myself a glass and feel it burn down my throat to my belly. I had been drinking when I got the news that he was ailing, so drinking now feels apt.
It’s easier to feel the fiery burn of the drink than the emptiness waiting underneath it.
Another pour. Another swallow. Before long, the room sways. And still, I can feel the sorrow beneath it all, niggling me.
My father’s voice still echoes, no matter how many burning swallows I take. It
