Remembering Sunday

He could feel it running through his veins, moving up through his brain and causing his head to swirl. The bottle was cold in his hand and he brought it to his lips as the harsh liquid sloshed into his mouth. He forced himself to swallow. The light in the room beside him flickered and his eyes searched the intermittent darkness, the silence feeling cold against his skin and running deep into his bones.

“I have to find her,” he whispered, his voice falling short of the invisible ears around him. He felt his foot on the ground and he attempted to steady himself. He stood up straight, only for a moment, before his head started to spin and he found himself laying back on the couch that his body had become incredibly familiar with. He sunk in, further and further, until he could feel himself disappearing just like she had.