18-Straight Record I pass through too many windows, and catch the reflection of the person I wish to be; a successful man, with a loving family and a house to call my own. The raindrops slide down the greased pane, tugging my view downwards to meet the reflection of my half empty scotch bottle. I squeeze slightly around the neck, feeling the cold wet between my fingers like broken glaciers. I sigh. Realizing my family is but merely the bottle, and my success is but merely my ability to cope with bad weather and the stigma of being alone. I bought my family for £3.50 at the local off-license orphanage. It was one of those screw-cap tops, so I waited for the right moment to twist it open. The right moment always came too soon, because I was lonely and needed that comfort and warmth that only Prince Consort could give. To stop myself looking more of a drunk than I am, I covered the bottle in a plastic bag and took long gulps at it. If it wasn’t for my staggered walk, and low-tone mumbles about nothing, I could’ve looked sober. After ten minutes looking through the window, I collapse in the doorway of the store. Darkness falls, as does the rain. My last sight is the bottle slowly tipping to my lips and escorting me to sleep. I pass through too many windows…
Superb. The metaphors that you use are a delight to read. I can always tell how much someone loves reading and writing by the imagination of their metaphors. You have a great way of taking everyday events in life and putting them under an artistic microscope.
