The Fame...
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I stood outside on the high balcony, my eyes sweeping over the bright city. High buildings illuminated the black sky, and I could hear the rumbling of the streets from eighteen stories high. A warm breeze wisped my hair from behind my ear and sent it floating in front of my face. I didn't bother to move it back into place.
My hands, trembling as they were, still had a solid grip on the neck of my bottle. I was starting to feel something warm tingle in my stomach and relax my limbs. It was easing the hazy mess my mind was it, replacing it with the blissful emotions that I can only feel when I'm drunk.
I took a swig of the bitter tasting liquor and managed to hold back the cringe that wanted to scrunch up my face. I learned how to hide the disgust that vodka gave me with years of practice, but that doesn't mean the feeling stopped coming. I hated drinking--I hated that it was the only thing that I did.
The glass sliding door was pushed open. I didn't bother turning around; I knew who it was, and I wasn't in the mood to look at him.
The door slid shut. I heard him clear his throat. "Nice night, huh?"
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