The Alcoholic’s View

In that moment, him and his glass became one. He wasn’t exactly sure what moment it was, it may have been  a medley of them.

Was it the moment he opened the bottle? Was it when it hissed and let out a wisp of smoke with a barley like aroma, which he found intoxicating?

It could have been the very instant he clutched the cold exterior in the palm of his hand. The beads of water trickled down the side of the bottle, wetting his finger and in turn causing his throat to wet in anticipation.

Could it have been the minute he pressed the rim of the bottle to his lips and tilted the cold fizzing liquid down his parched throat?

The tense feelings and worries melting away as it warmed and chilled his stomach at the same time. ‘Oh what a lovely paradox,’ he thought 💭  to himself.

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