’And again Paul, play it again.’ I said and held my glass up for a re-fill. The rest of the bar was like a black hole, Paul must have locked the door a while ago. The world around me appeared distant and hazy, as if viewed through a foggy window that refused to clear. The pendants above the bar swayed back and forth as if they also liked the melancholic melody of the song.

 

The glass filled with rich, amber-hued sunlight-like fluid. A heavy weight settled deep within the core of my stomach. It wasn’t a gentle warmth or a fleeting sensation, but a persistent ache that mirrored the emptiness I felt inside. It was almost a physical pain, palpable, as though it had taken root in the very fibers of my being, a constant knot, a gnawing sensation that seemed to tighten and loosen in rhythm with my breath.

 

As if it was water I drowned the whiskey. I wasn’t used to these quantities of alcohol. With my nail I picked a scratch in the polished bar surface, trying to suppress the acid creeping up my gullet.

 

’How about I take you home?’

 

’Where’s that Paul?’ I clenched my jaw. ’Another one.’

 

The cork popped and a soft hiss of air escaped. More amber fluid filled the glass. I held it up against the dimmed light. That was the color of Tina’s eyes when she was pregnant. Every single day. Until…

 

That day – I had come home early, with mangoes and her favorite food. The internet had told me that mangoes helped with tiredness. Tina had said she was tired, and I had been planning to pamper her. While preparing a bath for her, my phone had rung in the study. She had been laying on the bed, and I had kissed her before promising I would be right back.

 

A smile, unburdened by worry or doubt, had painted itself across my lips. I had been euphoric, my heart had exploded with happiness as I had entered the study and had thought that in a few weeks it would be turned into a nursery. I had answered my phone. An artist, he had been eager. The call had lasted.