Five dollars.
Had I really become that desperate?

Five dollars.


One bottle.
I felt the weight in my hand, swirling it around inside the brown paper bag.

Was it worth it?
I tipped the bottle high and my head began to pound.


It was worth it.

Five dollars.
What was I doing? Where was I going? I couldn't go home, I had no home anymore. All because one bottle.
One

Cheap


Bottle.
I brought the enticing glass to my lips... When did my bottle become so light?

So empty?


Did I do that?

Five dollars.
Gone.

One bottle.
Gone.

My house.
Gone.

Myself.
Gone.