I once again saunter from my room after a whole lot of wandering for nothing in particular in my room. Along the stairway, I notice Damian again with a glass of alcohol in his hand.
I drag my rage quickly to the table and wait for him because he is enjoying the liquor more than he will enjoy this delicacy. That is why he is taking forever to get to the table. "Is this thing even good for your health?" I asked Damian with concern and anger. Wasn’t it a hangover that made him take that one glass in the morning? Didn’t he also promise that he wouldn't touch these bottles again? What happened?
Fortunately for him, he apparently got a call from work after posing the facetious query in the morning. He was fortunate that the call saved his ass from incurring my wrath, because I find it so insul
