Her arms rise up towards the flashing neon lights of the black room.
Alcohol swims through her veins as she lets loose and goes wild.
A magnet in a stranger’s eyes draws her to him like a moth to a flame.
A bump here and a grind there, she sways until the chicken dinner fights its way up for an encore.
Her purse beeps at her as she fumbles for a table that will keep the ceiling tiles above her.
She wrestles with her phone and dials a frantic friend’s three missed calls;
The severity of her friend’s tone about some accident frustrates her.
She ends their pleasantries and a beer chug later, she wonders if the coffee water is boiling yet.
A little something to help her sober up before her husbands returns from work.
She lurches about on her way out of the bar and along her street in the neighborhood.
It seems unusually busy as she hurriedly staggers away from an ambulance speeding past her.
Her world rights itself and sobering ice drips down her back as she is washed pale
The flames lick her house; rising to the sky like her arms were but an hour ago.
The putrid smoke guzzles her weak lung strength and a choke explodes from her throat.
Drunkenly, she makes it to an officer for an explanation to why a candle has replaced her home.
At that moment, it passes her and paralyzes her every stimulation of being;
A small, black body bag rests in peace on a stretcher; she didn’t stay with her son.
Her knees collide with the cold, rough gravel and a shriek escapes her from unwilling accord.
She jolts into reality; the remnants of her nightmare dancing across the strands of her mind.
Six years have passed, yet the dream is perpetual in reminding her of that horrid day.
A permanent branding of what stupidity and bad habits combined will produce.