Saint Patrick ☘
28 August 2010 @ 04:36 pm
As the sun is setting, Patrick closes the blinds and he lets the happy face he wears during the day fade away like the light. He crosses his apartment to the dimly lit kitchen hoping to find something in his refrigerator. His faithful hound follows behind, a shadow of Patrick's movements with the 'click click' of canine toenails against linoleum. Patrick opens the fridge and his face is illuminated with bright, refrigerated light.

There is no food in Patrick's refrigerator.

This is not what Patrick wants, but he is not surprised that he has forgotten to shop for groceries. All that is left inside his Frigidaire are six bottles of vice he knows better than to drink. He reaches in and he pulls out a beer anyway. Quickly he removes the twist top and he brings the cold, frothy liquid to his lips to take a deep drink.

It doesn't matter the brand or where it was brewed. The pictures on the front of the bottle make no difference to him. As Patrick heads back into his living room to take a seat on his couch, all he cares about is that soon he will feel nothing. Soon whatever problems he has and whatever difficulties he faces will simply slip away. He is drinking like he does every night. He is drinking to forget.

He is drinking because it is all he knows any more.
Current Mood: discontent