He pours an ounce of finality into a glass. The action lasts a lifetime and memories flow with each drop of liquid. The whiskey lays waiting with memories floating like ice cubes. The harsh touch of the alcohol forces away the inhibitions of the waiting beverage. Before a sip has been taken, secrets have been released within its amber depths. Dreams, fears, and regrets float lifelessly under the surface, frozen in surreal poses of imagination and reality from the past.
Like a museum I am surrounded each night by the shades of the past. They form a silent line while I choose my sleep’s companion. I glance up periodically in frustration at the waiting faces. They make neither sound nor motion, instead content to wait upon my recognition of their existence. As the memories held within my glass crack and break apart, they dissolve releasing their contents into the amber abyss. Another skeleton can be seen descending to join his brethren below. He takes the crown I toss to him and places it upon his head.