As I sat alone in bed listening to the cycling whirl of the dishwasher,
I wished that I was ordering a second glass of Laphroaig,
feeling a warm glow move through my body,
drunk on an elixir of your laughter and scotch,
wondering why we had let three months slip away.

Yet,

miles and hours disappeared,

and it was

April 19, 2014,

and I was

terrified of how the night would

end.