It’s stuffy in here. Inkblot plumes of cigarette smoke poison and pollute the stale air, while a moist fever smothers the room, as if the bar is clothed in a sweaty sports jacket. It’s difficult to locate even a lungful of oxygen which isn’t contaminated by the sad stench of lives rotting away, like decomposing bodies left out in the open.

Yet my nostrils detect something else in the putrid concoction, something strangely familiar. Raw and earthy, like freshly baked bread. The bitter sweet fragrance prances through the musty air like a show jumping pony without a rider, daring me to try and find it. I peer around the small room from where I’m uncomfortably slumped in the corner – alone – in search of the source of the delicious fragrance.

I find it; a beautiful woman on the other side of the bar peering back at me.

She starts making her way toward me, her vivacious curves playfully swaying with each provocative step. She moves slowly, putting on a show, like a nimble dancer who knows she has the audience in the palm of her hand. She is scantily clothed, almost naked, except for the short black dress that tightly hugs her form like a manufactured second skin.

As she comes nearer I become aware of her radiance. Her beautiful body expresses a seeming fragility, as if made of glass. She projects an iridescent glow, almost as if the fuzzy light from the old light bulbs overhead pass right through her body, diffusing into a tiny rainbow of colours around her.

She is now so close that I can see the slight trickle of perspiration sliding down the side of her neck, like a child’s slinky toy cascading down a staircase, step by step. She stops in front of me, her lips pursed and begging for a kiss. Her tongue slithers across her top lip and I find my finger tracing her movement on my own lips, imagining what her luscious lips taste like.

Her enchanting fragrance dances up my nostrils once more and I lose all shreds of self-control. I roughly grab her around her waist, forgetting about her seeming fragility, and smash my yearning lips against hers, finally tasting the chilled liquid flow into my mouth.

I clutch the glass beer bottle with both hands, throwing my head back violently to gain better access to every drop of gold. My taste buds are bathed in bliss as the beer sloshes around the inside of my mouth, pure silk flowing down my dry throat. I have longed for the barley-laden taste every day for the past thirty-three days.

I place the drained bottle back down on the rickety table and stare at the emptiness inside, which a minute ago was filled with liquid happiness. The emptiness starts taunting me as I realize what I’ve done. My toothy smile tightens and deforms into a deep scowl which twists my face and heart.

I’ve relapsed again.

Day one.