Of course, that’s how things would end. He’d never go out in a blaze of glory. Not quickly, but not slowly, either. One last day, they’d told him. Tried to force him to stay at the hospital for it. As if he had any intention of dying in such a depressing place.
Instead, he stood on a particular corner, of a particular street. Gazing at the point where he’d let her go. Wondering if, perhaps, those winged ravens would come for him. The black cat that accompanied him bumped his leg and trilled. He bent down, scratching her head. She’d grown so much since he’d found her underneath that parked car in the rain. So very long ago, it seemed. He rose back to his full height and placed his hands in his pockets. He took a breath that was deep, but weak. Hoping to stop the chill that creeped into his bones. He walked into the bar, found a stool and sat. The bar was dimly lit, the soft glow of vintage lightbulbs casting a warm ambiance over the patrons. It was the same spot he always chose, a corner stool with a perfect view of the room. The cat leaped up onto his lap and curled to doze. The bartender, a seasoned man with a knowing smile, placed a tumbler of bourbon before him, its rich amber hue reflecting the dim light. As he took a sip, the taste of the bourbon hit him with a nostalgic force. It was, as always, like a wave of memories crashing onto quiet shores, pulling him back to a time when she was still by his side. Like always, the seat beside him remained mockingly empty. The way she used to kiss him, gentle yet with a bite of passion, flooded his senses. It was a torrent of emotion. The very reason he’d avoided drinking in this bar for two years. Her name swam in his mind, and she had an allure that was simply irresistible. Her laughter could light up the darkest room, and her smile could mend even the most broken of hearts. The whirlwind within his heart was made of emotions bound together in a love both chaotic and enchanting. This place had been their favorite haunt, where they spent countless evenings wrapped in each other’s embrace, laughing, and savoring the small moments. And it was here that she first introduced him to the taste of bourbon. With a playful glint in her eyes, she’d handed him a glass and said, “Try it, you’ll love it.” He did. And he did. The remnants clinging to his lips now held a bittersweetness. It reminded him of the way she used to hold him close, her lips pressed gently against his, but with a passionate intensity that sent shivers down his spine. He could almost feel her presence beside him, her laughter echoing in his ears. Unfortunately, life had other plans, and their paths diverged. She was gone, now. Had been for years. Sometimes he tried to let go. Tried to forget her, but the taste of bourbon kept bringing her back to him, like an unwavering echo that never seemed to fade into silence. As he’d passed years now without her, he learned slowly how to cherish the memories they had created, even though they were colored by his pain. The bourbon became an unfortunate companion, a constant reminder of the love they had shared. With each sip, he traveled back to those precious moments, the sweetness of her lips, and the fire in her kiss. On this, his supposed last night, in this beautiful dimly lit bar, he raised his glass in a silent toast to the past. To her, and the taste of bourbon that reminded him of her deep, dark eyes. That reminded him of her arms wrapped around his chest. She had left an indelible mark on his heart, and he knew that no matter where life took him, the memory of her kiss would forever linger. It was no wonder to him now, how hard it was to let go of her that one final time. He took one last sip, savoring the taste, and let the bittersweet memories wash over him. The bar around him bustled with laughter and chatter. But in his heart, he found solace in the quiet presence of the past. The cat on his lap twisted around, adjusting her perch. The woman he loved was gone. But he could stomach one last reminder. Someone in a hoodie sat in the stool next to him, and the cat eagerly moved to the stranger’s lap. He looked over, and the stranger’s gaunt face held hollow eyes. “One last taste,” the stranger said, tapping a finger on the counter with a small, patient smile on his skeletal lips. “I can respect that. We’ll go when you’re ready."
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AuthorLawrence Henry is an aspiring author with more caffeine than time. BTW, here's some of my thoughts on a few varied subjects. Archives
July 2023
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