years and places reordered according to no chronology.
The half-empty glass was mostly filled with melting ice
that had diluted the brown liquor, the ashtray next to it
had not been emptied in days. He finished using the rest
room, flushed. He threw the old girlie magazine onto
the couch, a few pictures blew off the table and landed
soundlessly onto the carpet, he didn't bother to pick them
up. His back ached as he reached for the glass, his left
hand shook a little. It used to worry him when it first
happened, now, he tried not to think about it. He poured
liquor to the brim of the tumbler before setting the bottle
on the counter by the refrigerator. The couch was soft
and yielding as he sat down, for a moment, it seemed
to sigh. He dumped a shoebox full of pictures last night
after coming home from the tavern, he had been there
since he had left work. In the light he could see years
spread across like confetti spilled out of a broken pinata
at a child's birthday party. There was a kind face that
looked out from many of the pictures, an earnest smile,
eyes that spoke with precise clarity of heart. Children
were beginning to walk home from school, he could
hear them outside. He locked eyes with a picture of her
at the beach, he could no longer hear the children.
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