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  • Danielle Pioli

Room Temperature

She knew she was wrong. But she kept pushing and pushing, looking for things to back her up. She knew she was wrong and still, she would keep going.

Her apartment was tiny. She had stuff piled up everywhere. It took her exactly four steps to go from her bed to her kitchen. Where she opened the fridge and got herself a beer. As soon as she tasted it, she spat it out in the sink.

“Gross”, she thought… it was warm. Her fridge wasn’t working very well, and everything in it was just slightly more chilled than room temperature. She drank it anyway.

She knew she shouldn’t. But she “had a stressing day”… or maybe she “deserves it for working so hard”… or she was just “in the mood” for it.

She picked up the coin in her left pocket and kept staring at it... reflecting for a little while, and finally, put her beer down. She didn’t even know why she bought it in the first place. However, it is there. Sitting on her kitchen counter.

It’s a warm night. She thinks she needs it, as a refreshment. Maybe her fridge kept it warm to keep her from drinking it. Was that a sign? Maybe she was just too broke to get a new fridge. Either way, there she was… staring at her drink. Holding that sobriety coin in her left hand. She pulled it close to her heart… “Dad…” she painfully whispered while a salty sad tear rolled down her face. She knew he was a warrior. But she also knew he lost that battle. And as her tears ran down her cheeks, so did the beer down the kitchen sink.


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