AFTER
Lily
When I was thirteen, I drank alcohol for the first time. I immediately loved the taste, the burn in my throat, the warmth in my belly and the tingle in my belly. I loved the sensation of walking on clouds after many swigs. It is a distant memory.
The last time I went to Luc's happy place was months before her death. It is an abandoned building on a hill close to a small river.
I was lying on my bed groaning like a woman in labour because of the terrible menstrual cramps I was suffering when Luc barged in with a thick cloud of vanilla around her. She looked at me and wrinkled her nose like I was the most irking thing ever.
"You smell edible," I said. It just flowed out my mouth, "like ice cream."
"It's my perfume." She walked to me and pulled me up, "get dressed, puppet. I
