A Story A Day. Story 203 of 365: Whisky.

It was a warm Friday summer night. Nick found himself alone at his place with no kind of plans whatsoever. All his friends had left for far away places, leaving him stranded in his hometown. Nick was used to loneliness, he had based his lifestyle on it. However, even hermits needed company from time to time. And that was one of those times. 

Nick sat on his balcony, looking at the stars, wondering if they ever felt lonely, if they wished they had company. It was a silly thought, of course, stars didn't have feelings. No one was alone, except him. The sounds of the forest surrounding his place arrived to his ears, a song of summer nights. It made him feel even more lonely. 

Walking up to the kitchen, he returned to the balcony with a bottle of whisky, a bucket of ice cubes, and a glass. He put everything on the table and sat back on his chair. Nick oppened the bottle with expectation, it was fine Scottish whisky, one of his few caprices. After putting some icecubes in the glass, he poured himself half a glass of Scotch. The first sip had always made him better, but, that night, it only made him feel more lonely. He took another one, it warmed him inside, but it only made her remember there was no one around. 

Nick nursed his loneliness with the bottle of liquor. The lower the bottle was the lonelier he felt. Until both him and the bottle were completely empty, and tears of solitude dripped from his sad eyes.