There is a moment after that first drink hits, a moment in which you feel like you can do anything. That first drink is just enough to save you from the world, to make you forget why you ever needed even the first drink. Unfortunately, it lasts all of fifteen minutes, and as your world crumbles to pieces at your feet, you begin to realize that the best way to keep from ever feeling the fade is to never have a moment after the first drink. You throw back two, three at a time, and it makes sense to just never stop. So you try, but there is always that dreadful in between time, where you are waiting, waiting for what will make it all better and you forget why you're alive in the first place. And deep down you realize you can never experience that first drink again, at least not tonight, because you fear the moment where your post-first drink happiness fades into your pre-second drink sadness.
Also fairly old, and nothing I'm incredibly pleased with, but I'm trying to bring this up to date on some of my more recent pieces.
This sort of ties in with my "series" (if you can call it that - it's really more of a collection of short stories) about my pet characters, a couple, but it stands alone just as well, I think.
