Wrap your teeth around the pavement

M  A   E    A I talked to God to no avail Said, "If you won't save me, please don't waste my time." Her gaze was unusually dark as she followed his movements, going to refill her glass. Taking her hand, squeezing it; she returned it, but did not try to keep him there when he pulled back. Again she drank from what he poured her, though not quite as violently as before. Holding the drink in her mouth for a moment before swallowing, she felt the flavors mingle on the tongue, the alcohol stinging her nose and making the throat burn. Coughing into her sleeve, she shrugged at the reminder of the room. It was nice of him to offer it like that, but it wasn't home. Not really. There were no personal items of hers in there, no history within the walls, no memories to lean into before she fell asleep. And the cider? The wine her brother made, the vintages her father had laid down before he passed to Mort's embrace? Those were flavors of the painful kind. "Thank you," she said anyway, but some of the sentiment shone through despite the effort to conceal it. She sighed, feeling tired. Looking it. The usual light was not there in her eyes today, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. That stubborn cough was growing more frequent by the day, settling deeper into her lungs... she'd had to cancel her run this morning, and the delay irritated her. Pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, she cast a look about the bar. A few customers still lingered, but the place was emptying out. Any music had ended, and the few who remained sat in deep conversation over their drinks, the soft murmur of their voices a buzz in the air that grated on her nerves. "They came back quicker than I thought," she commented, rather listlessly. It was good, of course, but... somehow she couldn't really bring herself to truly care.