The fat mellow sun creeped along the hedges when Mary looked for Joe.
Through the glass, just beyond the shaded porch she saw him swig down another mouthful. The brown liquid within the container was nearly half gone now, and that fact certainly didn't bring her cheer. She watched as Joe lowered the bottle, swaying slightly on his feet, as if a stiff breeze had upset his balance. She often imagined it that way, as it sounded far more poetic than the simple fact that the whiskey replaced his blood.
There was nothing for it. She could only watch. He was trying, and failing, to fill the gaping hole within himself once again.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
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