High All The Time [Part 1]

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Mamrie's POV

"You can't just leave!" I sobbed. There was no response, just a slam of the front door, and then everything was quiet. I stood in the middle of my kitchen, just staring at the door that had so recently closed. Fuck.
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I sat up, realizing it was now morning. I turned on my side, expecting to see Grace laying next to me, but, instead - I found the other side of the bed empty, slowly remembering the events of the night before.

I grabbed my phone from the floor, where it must have fallen at some time during the night. I did the first thing I thought of, although it probably was not the wisest; I called Grace. After three unanswered calls, I gave up. It wasn't worth it anyways, I tried to convince myself.

I slowly walked to the kitchen, and opened a cupboard above the sink, and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It was never too early, I told myself in my head. After downing several swigs of vodka, I put the bottle back, realizing maybe 11:45am, was actually way too early to be drinking. I didn't bother with eating - in fact, that was the farthest thing from my mind.

Maybe I was overreacting...but I didn't care. She left. I couldn't be expected to be completely unaffected. Turning back around, I went back to the cupboard, and took the bottle of vodka back out, and then proceeded to flop down on my couch. A lot of people, especially the one I was trying not to think about right now, had always told me not to just drown my feelings in liquor, and I had always promised not to let myself do that - but by 4:30pm, I had broken that promise, and to be blatantly honest, I didn't give a flying fuck. I laughed in spite of myself, and my own foolish coping mechanisms.

"Well, what a sorry state I'm in," I laughed. Not my usual laugh - not the laugh I used when I'd made an especially clever pun, or horrifically stumbled over my words during a drunken night. It was more solemn somehow, as if to say; Jesus, Grace leaves you and THIS is how you end up? Classy Mametown, real classy.

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