Louis filled the blue colored glass a quarter the way with cola, horrendously flat cola that tasted off to his tongue, but the fridge was bare of anything else. He thinks of having just some plain water straight from the tap, but something about brown liquid never appealed to him.
He looks around the flat at the dishes growing mold, dirty clothes likely months old, the three inch thick stack of mail falling off the counter. This was the bachelor life. No worries. No responsibilities. Just him and him alone. With horrible cola. And he was growing tired of it.