I drank until my cheek met the floor. As I laid there on the floor I could see the bourbon spilling slowly from the bottle. The brown liquid ran down the leg of the table and puddled at the foot.
The letter from you lying on the floor face down. All the letters pouring their pain out in tiny drops.
And those drops still dripping through the canyons and gorges in my brain.
I think I will lie here a bit longer.
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