Sober (part 1)

Have another glass. Drink some more. Here it is, my dear. Drink it all.

I’ve never cared about you, really. You were there, that was all. Another face. Another pair of eyes, staring at me. Another hungry look. You were starving, weren’t you? On the edge of dying for attention. I saw it and I answered your call. I gave myself on a silver plate. Trust me.

“Why can’t we not be sober?” you murmured, drunk.
“Because I pay”, I answered. You laughed. You grinned. Have another beer, my dear.
“Stop doing that. Tomorrow I’ll be so dead”, you sighed.
Yes, you will.
I smiled. “Does the world not look better with a touch of alcohol?”
“Sure it does, but the next day everything has turned black”, you sighed. You started sighing as if you knew your fate. Fate is nonsense. Fate is like clay. The future is what you mold and pinch.
“The next day is horror.”

Horror, that’s true. I’ve seen so many other faces just like yours, and all of them reflected that horror. It’s not me who made this world what it is. You created it yourself. It’s all in your hands, but you throw it away. That is what you do. And the difference between us that I don’t do that. As I said I start molding. I start molding men like you until I get them where I want them. Until they tell me I’m beautiful.

“You’re so beautiful”, you babbled.
“Am I?”
I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. What to say when someone compliments you? I breathed slowly.
Ask it.

Ask it.

But no, you just took another swig and started avoiding my eyes. Don’t ask me why they always want to tell something. There’s always something. Ever and always.
“Once, I knew a woman as beautiful as you”, you sighed. “She was just so nice and perfect…”
“Of course she was.” They are always nice and beautiful and perfect. They were the one.
“But she didn’t know. And one night, I hadn’t even asked her if she wanted a drink of me or anything, one night, she walked to the railway station and-”
“And what happened then?” I feel no mercy at this point. Just tell, let’s get it over and done with.
“Then there was a train.”
“Who knows?” you said full of misery. “Who knows why beautiful women die before-”
“Before they live.”
Another swig. Silence. You are different, aren’t you? But trust me. I will find the centre in you.Trust me.

“It’s so spoiled and tragic-”
“Drink another beer.”
“No”, you pushed my arms away, the glass away. Shaking head.
“It will only make things worse.”
It will indeed.

“Do you understand?” you asked, suddenly ardently speaking, in a sad way.
“No one deserves to die in such anonymous way.”
Maybe you do, my dear. Maybe you do deserve to die that way.

Leave a comment


  1. Love, love, love these lines:

    Fate is like clay. The future is what you mold and pinch.

    Nicely done.

  2. I like the rhythm or cadence of this piece. It sounds like a real conversation – something out of a foreign film. Great job.

  3. Good stuff.

  4. Beautiful! ๐Ÿ™‚

  5. Where you listening to Tool – Sober while writing this up? The song has the best lyrics in the world.
    Just wondering why were they drinking together in the first place ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Looking forward for the conversation to slip into more drunkedness in part 2 ๐Ÿ˜›

  6. No idea where this is going.
    Can’t wait to find out. Really good so far!

  7. I’m sorry but this is terrible.

    Not your story, the fact I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet. I am at fault. I probably also shouldn’t have worded things the way I have. Did you heart skip a beat? Did a tear roll down your cheek? I’m sure it’s as good as your previous. I promise to read it soon!

    • Yes, my heart skipped a beat and I cried because I thought I had let you down and we would not be friends anymore…
      How glad I was to find out what you really ment!


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