The day finished like any other. It was hot and sticky, but he felt good. The liquor cooled his throat and he was glad. It was like this day after day. He never thought it was bad because it was always good. Today was no different. Yesterday was the same as today, and he didn’t mind.

The sun was up overhead. He heard the train roaring down the tracks. It was eleven o’clock, as usual. When the train came in, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. I shouldn’t have drunk today, he thought. She’ll know I drank.

She was as lovely as ever. The train master helped her as she stepped off the train daintily. Seeing him, she ran to meet him.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” she asked. She was sick of his drinking. It made her sick to her stomach when he drank. It wasn’t really the drinking that bothered her, though, as much as it was what it did to him. She didn’t want him not to be who he was. He didn’t know who else to be, except who he was when he drank.

“It’s good to see you,” he lied, hoping she would forget about the alcohol. She always bothered him about the alcohol. What was the matter with his alcohol? Why couldn’t she let him have his booze?

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “I’m happy to be home again.” But he wasn’t. Why didn’t you stay? he thought. You should have not come–at least, not now.

“So have I,” he said. “Do you want to go inside and clean up?”

“No, let’s just go home.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to be with her right now or tonight or tomorrow or ever. She was a constant reminder of everything he hated. Why he had ever married her, he still didn’t know.

“Yes. Let’s go home now, Darling.”

“All right, we’ll go home.” He picked up her bags and started towards the car.

“Wait, Honey. I forgot something.” She turned back to the train to get it.

While he waited for her, he took another long, cool drink of the bottle. He waited, but she never came. Where is she now? he wondered angrily. He went aboard to find her.

She was nowhere in sight. “Honey,” he called, “Honey, where are you?” He went through each train car looking for her. He couldn’t find her anywhere. “Ah, forget her, then,” he muttered under a breath of alcohol. He took another drink of his bottle. He was beginning to get livid. Who was she to be away and return and treat him as if he were her servant? Wait, Honey? What a bitch! He hated her even more at that moment.

As he began to leave the train to wait outside for her, he saw her and the train master kissing in another car. He was about to go beat her and the train master, but decided to go buy another drink at the station.

The next bottle of liquor he bought was not too good. It burned his throat as he drank it and it was too bitter. He wished he had never bought it. His head swam from the first drink and now this one made his head hurt even worse.

He didn’t want to take this anymore. She could have her sweet romance with her train master. Let her keep her prize. Why should he stop her? He didn’t need her; she was a whore. He took another drink of his liquor, then walked to the car and drove off.