The first
In a drunken rage, he crushed the can with an odd satisfaction and hurled it against the door. Adding on was the fact it bounced off his target, way off. It didn’t feel good, because much of the force had been converted to the kinetics of the can, and what he saw of the impact was a weak thud as the can hit the door and fell to the ground, rolling away feebly.
It was his first, alcohol as it began. He remembered things were simple- he thought the smile meant he was something special. Oh the foolishness of perceptions which reveal a blinding harsh truth. The smile was a mere twitch of muscle by that party, he happened to be in sight. It wasn’t specially for him, it was him who wanted it to be for him.
Shaking off the blurring feeling, forcing the flat taste down. It was bitter, biting bitter that made all senses scream for something sweet. He swallowed it down, thinking
If I can take the bitterness, maybe it would relieve my agony.
But of course it didn’t, and he wondered with the empty can, as if it could explain to him.
To be continued.
