The ageing hand brought up the whiskey to his lips as he coughed out a simple ‘‘Sorry’‘ in Lorelai’s direction; eyes shifting to her slowly before his head turned to the body that was sprawled over his living room floor. His heart was hurting even if he didn’t want to admit it to anyone or anything --- himself included.
He had one rule; do not bring anyone into his home. But this had been a personal call. It wasn’t company or cartel business. Instead a personal vendetta he’d been wanting to fill for some time now. The gravely laugh was sour, he wasn’t happy with his accomplishment.
‘‘I guess I got messy with this one.’‘ He calls out. He was drunk, unsure how long he’d been drinking before he’d found his phone and managed to call her. It was a mirical he even had at this point as he searches from the remainder of the bottle he’d been finding comfort in.
His best friend. The drink the only friend he had at times.
‘‘How much is this one gonna cost me?’‘ He asks.
@silent-cleaner