Wish You Were Here Short Story

1341 Words6 Pages
One day you were here and then the next day you were gone, and it hurts. That’s the pitfall of sudden loss. You have no time to prepare for the pain. No gray clouds filled the sky, no sprinkle of rain or distant thunder took place. All of a sudden my phone rings. I remember the call so vividly, and it haunted my mind till the end. The call ended. Your heart, it must of hurt, so bad that it stopped. It’s just sunny one second then flooding the next. With no preparation you are left in shock and panic. So, I parked the car and I sat in the unknown, I turned the radio on. How ironic would it be that, “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd starts playing. Then the song ended and somehow you make it through the years thinking the pain will never end,…show more content…
But I become so blinded, because God sent me another messager, another angel to try and save me. But even, her presence could not wake me from my slumber. I remember moments though In the beginning when the bottle belonged to me. But with every sip I consented myself over to something much stronger than me, the bottle no longer belonged to me, I belonged to the bottle. But i do remember those sober spickets of time. I would sit down on the couch, and she would sit right in front of me. The way she looked at me, It was as if it was just me and her, and the rest of the world had been background noise. I grabbed my guitar, and I would play. It was her favorite commodity in the world. Her eyes would light up at the sound of the guitar, she would move her body to the rhythm. It was our connection, the strings of the guitar were holding us together. I prayed those strings would never break. To my hope, the strings didnt break, but when I laid down that guitar, I picked up the bottle instead. As time went on I left the guitar stranded, and kept the bottle in my hand. It wasn't that I cared for the alcohol more than you, it was just I wasn’t byself, I became the bottle. I was just this empty glass and I needed substance to fill me up. I filled my self with posion. Then my eyes slowly open and it’s another day. I don’t know how i got here, but I carry my body out of bed. Slowly dragging myself into the kitchen, i start the pot of coffee. Sobering myself up for just a few seconds. Then I would leave to work. After work I would come home. Everyday wasn't bad. Some nights we danced. Mambo No. 5 played on the stereo. She never needed to place her feet on mine. She took each step for herself, and we would dance for hours. In those moments, the alcohol floundered through my body but never touched my mind or heart. She was all that mattered. But moments end, and I would fall back into my bad habits. Eventually, you
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