At least once during the course of any given day I’m going to think, “This is it. This is when I relapse.”
Maybe it’s when I’m walking home from work. The sun kissing my shoulders. I’m not sure if I have anyone to come home to yet. Maybe it’s when we’ve closed up the office. My colleagues have gone out to bars or met up for dinner dates. Maybe it’s when I’m taking my lunch at a park. Everyone has their toes in the grass and a beer in their hand. Those quiet little moments that make me feel like I don’t belong anywhere. They sneak up on me. Even when I’m out around people.
A pint of lager in her hand, she asks me, “Does it bother you when I drink around you? I mean, you’ve never said…
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