Pop!
The cork from wine bottle two of the hour took off into the kitchen sky. My face was tear-stained and mourned someone who was never in my life. My apartment was empty, other than the not-so-rare fly that was somehow not dead yet and the bare voices that boomed from the TV, rambling about brainless politics and nobody important. The apartment air got thinner until I was almost clawing at my throat and gasping for my own life. The bottle was placed on the countertop. A coat I had discarded in the corner earlier was thrown over my shoulders as I left my apartment. After each flight of stairs, I was met with a window that illustrated the lovely river that ran past and the night life accompanied with it. Party-goers walking past in their sparkly whatevers and old men, the other way, returning from their dead-end job. The street lights shone down on me, a shameful spotlight, as I walked along the street that was now deserted except for a single man on a bench. I sat next to him. Neither of us spoke. We both looked up at the sky. Oh I wish I had brought that bottle down with me. He turned and smiled at me as he held my hand. And for a moment I felt happy- out of my loneliness and addiction. I cried. I gave him a hug before I returned to my apartment. The bottle got thrown out that night, still half full. I clambered into my bed and fought the duvet around me. I hope I never see him again. I don’t think I’d have the ability to walk away again. I hope he has a peaceful night, and I hope I have a peaceful night also. I love you, Stranger.