Shots

Pouring the first measure out the brand new bottle of imported Blue Label, mind rewinds back to the moments spent with her. She was beautiful. Just beautiful – nothing more, nothing less. For 8 years now, it has been a hopeless runaway from her torturing memories. Measuring out the next round, thoughts lingered - the last resort has always been a few shots of whiskey. Sparkling, on the rock and neat – they have soothed the mind, slowly putting it to sleep. 

From a single shot to pegs to large, the transition was smooth and fast. These days the body has grown immune to this lovely friend and even after four-five rounds straight, it shows no fatigue. The focus is still her. The last drop of this ‘royal drink’ poured in; the ice cubes clinked against the glass. This drink in the hand resembles her a lot. The shining crystal cubes ice reminds me of her glowing eyes, the light golden honey colour liquid – her free flowing hair, the transparent glassware - her pure heart. But with every sip of this nectar, she seems to disappear little by little or is it sleep shutting down the system?  

The dim lights and the chill air filled the room with silence. The golden content remains unfinished. The sparkle had long vanished. Waiting for memories to fade - only to remember them better.