The choker at her neck pulls tightly against the alcohol she swallowed two hours ago. She wonders if that’s why she feels like puking, but no, she just wants to puke.
Sharon takes one more drag and puts her cigarette out in wet mud.
Her thoughts never really go anywhere. She says things out loud, but they never reach her; the things that make one feel low. There are a lot of things that made her feel low.
Patrick was still at the bar. He could never let go of the bottle, just like he could never let go of Sharon.
Sharon would never know how much he really loved her. No one really would.
He just thought that she stopped loving him halfway though the marriage, waiting for the ball to drop.
They ended it knowing they both had enough, and so they drew their pink flags, and then, they walked, the fuck, away.
They both need AA.