There wasn’t much reason to say something. He could have, but it only would have made her feel bad. It was pointless to call her out on it, even though it was his good right. He knew very well that he was too drunk now and his comment would have quickly ended in words gushing from his vocal cords like hot lava from an erupting volcano. She would, rightly so, call him a fool.
But if he had spoken, his thoughts would have probably derailed him to his never-dying conundrum between the infuriating inseparability of good versus bad, and how one cannot outshine the other forever. A constant struggle fuelled by an incapability to focus on both simultaneously and accepting that we can’t appreciate sunshine without the occasional thunderous clouds above us. Instead, when it gets dark we quickly believe the light will never return, forgetting that we need darkness to appreciate a sunrise.
However, he held back his remark and watched her walk away. He sighed and drank from the whiskey she served him. He had asked for wine.
Leave a comment