It’s been a difficult day. Amber’s nerves are frazzled. Her pulse and thoughts are racing.
It’s hard to focus. Reign in her emotions. Old habits die hard.
Moments like this make one vulnerable. Moments like this lead to poor choices. Mistakes.
“But the choice is mine,” Amber reminds herself- looking down at her hands, encircled around the glass. Shaking.
Ice merrily clinking, bubbles winking at her through deep brown liquid. It’s tantalizing aroma wafting upwards.
“No,” she chokes out, sets the drink down, climbs off the stool, and exits the bar. Thiry-nine days sober.