A drunk confession

 In a dimly lit bar, a man sits at the counter, slouched over his drink. His words slur slightly as he speaks, his eyes distant, filled with a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and longing.

You know, hiccup, my mama, she asked me the other day, "What happened to that girl you used to tell me about?" Oh, mama, she's... she's alive. She's doin' well, I guess. I remember her birthday, yeah... Yeah, I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember the day she gave me her number. Man, was I excited that day. chuckles sadly

She was somethin' special, mama. She was like you, in a way, made me better, you know? She listened to me... really listened. And you know what? She once told me that when she talks, I only listen to what I want to reply to. laughs bitterly Can you believe that? She knew me better than anyone else alive, mama. Knew my habits, my tricks... like how I mastered the art of changin' the topic when I didn't wanna talk about somethin'. God, she hated that so bad.

There was this one night... supposed to be studyin', right? But we just sat there, middle of the night, talkin'. Talked until the damn sun came up. That... that kinda intimacy, mama, I don’t think I’ll ever find it again. I miss her smile, her anger, her laugh... I miss all of it. And maybe... maybe that’s why I’ve given up on ever fallin' in love again.

You know, mama, I read somewhere that it’s hard to fall in love these days. ‘Cause everyone’s missin' someone from the past, or maybe... just maybe, they're holdin' on to this tiny bit of hope that someday, somehow... we’ll meet again.

He takes a long, slow sip of his drink, staring into the bottom of the glass, lost in the memories that swirl like the whiskey in his glass.