Alcoholism

Alcoholism.

 

My hand twitches; leaping into the air uncontrollably.

The tears fall from my heavy eyes; I can taste the saltiness of them.

I like it; Bittersweet, you know?

My chest suddenly becomes too tight.

I can’t breathe.

I panic.

My mind races; my heart pulses.

Death immediately comes to mind.

 

Pause.

. . .   …   . . .. …

 

Death seems to linger over her.

He stares at her with a smile on his face.

Play.

 

The smell of alcohol slowly slithers its way into her nose.

Her eyes roll back in her head. She knows what she must do.

Her mouth salivates.

She slowly pulls her weak body out of the chair.

She walks to the cabinet; knowing full well what she’s about to do.

Her hand, weathered and wrinkled from a painful life, reaches for the whiskey.

Shaking tremendously, she pours the liquid into a glass.

The glass reaches her lips.

Pause;

 

Death looks at her with remorse because he knows what will eventually happen.

 

Play.

 

The whiskey hits her tongue; hits her lips; hits her throat.

 

And there is it.

 

Relief from her problems.

 

She smiles.

Death smiles.

Bittersweet, you know?