-1The dark curls in his mind; nighttime branches and leafy tendrils stretch lovingly from his drink and pull him down, down, deep into the comforting bliss of forget.
He orders another, feels the fireflies drift past, smells the wind rush through the trees, hears the soft singing of the insects.
He will not let himself remember nights before this night. There is nothing outside of now. He and the wolf will roam freely now, unhindered.
He will not remember the warmth of his eyes, his soft voice, the dust of his books. His graying hair and cool skin.
He closes his eyes. Fireflies and moonlight.
He will not remember.