James Sinclair
Drink. Forget. Drink more.
That was the plan now. Because clearly, waiting for Olivia wasn’t going to get me anywhere. She wasn’t coming back, not tonight, not ever if I kept screwing things up the way I had. I took another gulp, not caring anymore how much I’d had. The alcohol was starting to work its way through my system, making everything around me blur at the edges. The city lights outside the window seemed dimmer, like they were part of a world I didn’t belong to anymore.
I slumped back on the couch, tugging at the collar of my shirt. It felt too tight, suffocating me. Even with the AC on, the condo felt stifling, like the air had turned into soup. I stood up, staggering slightly as I yanked off the shirt, letting it drop to the floor.
I undid the belt next, shovi
