A drunkard's wife decided to leave him, owing to the fact that he was hardly sober and could never figure out the difference between hallucination and reality.
It was a rainy night. The city was taken by the intermitten rain but the drunkrad's wife was not aware of the rain as she was busy packing her stuff in the tiny and messy studio apartment.
The drunkard came home, exuding the strong smell of alcohol that could kill any living animals easily. He saw the wife who was going to leave. He knew that was going to happen so he did not stop her. He kept silent, headed to the fridge and took out some booze, sitting at the dirty futon while watching the wife packed.
Approaching the door, the wife saw the heavy rain, which obviously was not a good weather to drag two huge suitcases and leave. So she chose to stay for another night, planning to leave early in the next morning, when the rain stopped.
The wife layed on the futon silently. The atmosphere was haunted by the creepy quietness, as none of the creatures in the room made any noise or intention to talk. Drunkard turned the wife around, looked into her eyes with passison, just the the way he looked at her when they first met ten years ago. He offered her 'Corona Extra', the only beer that she would really drink. Enchanted by the pair of hazel eyes, she took a few sips.
Drunkard held the wife in warm embrace, then, let her lay on his chest, which was a place where she used to turn to when she was lost.
He offered her the bottle for a couple more times, encouraging her to drink more since that was the last night for her to be there. Next, he finished the whole drink by himself, whilst holding her tight in his arm.
The wife started feeling dizzy. She thought that was the effect of the beer. At the moment of falling asleep, she heard somebody mumbling something in the cold air.
"There are poison in the beer. How nice would that if we could die together now, in each other arms, stay together forever, am I right?"
Unconciously, the wife nodded her head weakly. Tears rolled down from the coners of her eyes, right to the chest of the drunkard. The chest was wet, so did the long brown hair of the wife.
Feeling the nodding of the wife, the drunkard laughed.
'Weirdo." He said to his teary wife who was in comma, before closing his own eyes.
The next morning, the room was filled with the smell of alcohol, two huge luggages, empty bottles, pieces of junks and two motionless bodies on the blue futon.
The irony: Was that for the alcohol or love?
It was a rainy night. The city was taken by the intermitten rain but the drunkrad's wife was not aware of the rain as she was busy packing her stuff in the tiny and messy studio apartment.
The drunkard came home, exuding the strong smell of alcohol that could kill any living animals easily. He saw the wife who was going to leave. He knew that was going to happen so he did not stop her. He kept silent, headed to the fridge and took out some booze, sitting at the dirty futon while watching the wife packed.
Approaching the door, the wife saw the heavy rain, which obviously was not a good weather to drag two huge suitcases and leave. So she chose to stay for another night, planning to leave early in the next morning, when the rain stopped.
The wife layed on the futon silently. The atmosphere was haunted by the creepy quietness, as none of the creatures in the room made any noise or intention to talk. Drunkard turned the wife around, looked into her eyes with passison, just the the way he looked at her when they first met ten years ago. He offered her 'Corona Extra', the only beer that she would really drink. Enchanted by the pair of hazel eyes, she took a few sips.
Drunkard held the wife in warm embrace, then, let her lay on his chest, which was a place where she used to turn to when she was lost.
He offered her the bottle for a couple more times, encouraging her to drink more since that was the last night for her to be there. Next, he finished the whole drink by himself, whilst holding her tight in his arm.
The wife started feeling dizzy. She thought that was the effect of the beer. At the moment of falling asleep, she heard somebody mumbling something in the cold air.
"There are poison in the beer. How nice would that if we could die together now, in each other arms, stay together forever, am I right?"
Unconciously, the wife nodded her head weakly. Tears rolled down from the coners of her eyes, right to the chest of the drunkard. The chest was wet, so did the long brown hair of the wife.
Feeling the nodding of the wife, the drunkard laughed.
'Weirdo." He said to his teary wife who was in comma, before closing his own eyes.
The next morning, the room was filled with the smell of alcohol, two huge luggages, empty bottles, pieces of junks and two motionless bodies on the blue futon.
The irony: Was that for the alcohol or love?
