They come without fail, the alternating of the sweats and chills. The tremors in every inch of my body. It feels like a million termite are feasting underneath my skin, devouring every last in of my frame as if their feeble lives are depending on it.
Fumbling around the room I am able to find what is left of the whiskey from the afternoons affairs and I pull hard from the bottle. As I do the memories of the last twenty four hours are rolling through my mind like a mid summer thunder storm. Her dark hair, the silhoutte in in the passing car, the bar, the darkness, the confusion, her perfume, the pipes banging, her leaving. For the life of my I can't remember her face or her nam. Only her sweet smell, raven hair and those eyes staring back into mine. For what little life that is left in me I can't believe that the person she has come to believe that I am is standing here at 4AM shaking, drinking hard from stale bottle of whiskey.
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