Nepenthe: (n.) A drug or drink, or the plant yielding it, mentioned by ancient writers as having the power to bring forgetfulness of sorrow or trouble.
Annie sulkily nursed the glass in front of her, staring mournfully into the amber liquid and wishing it was actually making her feel better. It had been a long day, she was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to sit in the tavern and drink some beers and forget all of her troubles. But for some reason, it just wasn't working tonight. Deep down she knew why.
On a normal night, she would be sitting at one of the little wooden tables with her best friend, drinking their way through the superb beers while his dry sarcasm chased away the darkness. It wasn't the alcohol that made her feel better. It was Auggie. But they weren't speaking anymore. They hadn't spoken in two whole days and it was eating her alive. She would've given in and just apologised to make things better, but he had been purposefully avoiding her and that made her angry with him all over again.
So now she stood up from the bar, leaving her half empty beer glass on the counter. Obviously this wasn't going to work. She tossed a folded bill down beside the glass and left. It was probably for the best that she not get drunk tonight anyway. She had a mission first thing in the morning tomorrow and it would be better if she wasn't hung over while trying to work in such a sensitive mission.
But it'd be a lie if she said she wouldn't miss having Auggie in her ear come tomorrow.
