The air is brand new. It smells like cold water, and snow, snow and silence. I feel the family members creeping up around the corner. They want to know if I have a boyfriend, or a job, or a baby.
No. I have a drinking problem, a one person apartment, a long list of things to do. But I am here.
I smell turkey and cranberries, and a spilled glass of a sticky beverage. I see men on the television tackling each other, and men on the couch yelling at the men on the television. I hear the murmur of judgmental old bags, and the wind blows through the empty trees. I feel the cold bitter air freeze my limbs, and the dryness of my skin against my jeans. I taste bitter black coffee and strong golden liquor, It stings every ***** it hits, and numbs the rest of me, inhibition included.