left behind
dotintime
It wasn’t much of a party but times are hard.
We found the two little bottles, lined up like salt and pepper shakers on the shelf. One had been opened, the cap twisted off then jammed back on but we didn’t care. We sat on the floor cross-legged, one bottle each in front of us.
I took a sip then, you took a sip. You swore yours tasted hot, chilli hot, or maybe caustic hot. Like candle grease and bleach. Though you had the unopened bottle. Mine slipped down smooth as honey.
We sat and talked for hours. You pretended it had made you drunk, and fell asleep, snoring lightly like a zephyr wind. I watched you for a while, and decided that whatever happened in our lives, wherever we went, whatever we did, we’d remain perfect friends.
As we got up to leave you set the bottles back where we’d found them, turning mine so its back was to the wind, like salt and pepper, one not quite full, one not quite empty.
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