A still and quiet reflection.
I'm almost embarrassed to say I've turned them into some memorial. A foolish tribute that does nothing but haunt me, and make me uncertain of the past.
They sit alone in a remote, cob-web-covered corner of my dormitory.
Two bottles. One blank and empty. The other's full, unopened, and labeled with directions, written in my own cursive.
A gold-lined strip of parchment is underneath the full vial. Hers. Long ago, I wrote 'Cheers' upon it.
To us, Lily. I doubt my life would be so painful if you'd opened it. And sipped it.
One. Sip.