pour one out for our ghosts

There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better
You'll rise up free and easy on that day

Maybe you are still asleep. You'd believe it but for the pattering rain and the way your stomach pitches and churns like a ship adrift in a storm. Pieces of the day before fliter through the fog of your drunk, hungover brain, even as she confirms aloud just what a fool you were.

Well.

Your face twists into an unhappy grimace; at least you have the mental faculty to feel appropriately like a fool. Both in terms of the bad things - never a great look, telling someone you wish you never met them - and the mysterious, undisclosed good. Rolling stiff shoulders to work out the kinks, you consider your options from here. Running away still feels like a very viable plan, but...

All that, and she didn't run.

"Only th'best," you mutter softly, fingers running through your hair. The rain is getting heavier; a drip lands on your neck. You desperately want to know what sweet idiotic things you said, but they're still just out of reach. "Sorry, Vai. I was a a right mess. Reckon I owe ya quite a bit fer stayin' with my drunk ass through all'a that shit." And now, because somehow against all odds the woods witch is still here.

And float from branch to branch, lighter than the air
Just when that day is coming, who can say?

zephyr