Richard

I slamthe sealed bottle of vodka against the counter and stare at it with shaky hands. On the one hand, I want to drink until I no longer can taste Maya on my tongue. But on the other, it feels like I’m letting her down in some way.

Blacking out won’t solve anything.

Neither will sitting around, reading a book to escape my reality. We all have coping strategies, and mine just happen to be found at the bottom of a bottle.

I hesitate while pouring myself a drink.

You told Maya you would limit your drinking for her.

Yeah, well, these are desperate times and all.

I forgo the glass and drink straight from the bottle instead. The first sip was meant to erase the taste of Maya’s guava icing from my tongue. Alcohol is a poor substitute, but the taste wipedaway any traces of sweetness from my…