It wasn't a wish for an end to life, not really. It was a wish for the end of the feeling . He wanted to be like the glass—shattered, inert, unable to feel the cold or the heat. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up as someone else, or perhaps not wake up at all until the world had moved on and her name no longer felt like a hook in his throat.
The neon sign of the "Ultima Statie" bar flickered, casting a rhythmic, sickly pink glow over Stefan’s hands. He wasn't a drinker by habit, but tonight, the habit of being himself had become too heavy to wear. as_vrea_sa_beau_sa_plang_sa_mor
He stared into the amber glass. The liquid was sharp, smelling of scorched earth and forgotten promises. he whispered to the rim of the glass. It wasn't a wish for an end to life, not really