She passed the bottle over, and I started chugging before replying.

"Drowning my sorrows, and then myself."

I realised that that'd come out far too easily. Just like everything that came after.

"I thought I saw her earlier. I thought I saw a lot of things earlier. She was talking like-"

I ran my hand through my hair.

"Like she was alive and I was a lot older and that her mum and I were actually happy togther. And she had a name and I remembered her singing to me. But I can't remember what never happened, and we never decided on a name before..."

Exhaling, fists clenched.

"Before she did that."

I looked up.

"I sound mad don't I?"

"No." she said.

"You sound like you're grieving."

Grief. Was that what it was? Sorrow?

"Alchohol has a way of bringing everything out." she whispered.

"The good and the bad."

The bottle was empty. I chucked it in the water as she poored herself a glass frpm the other.

"But you want to know what I think?"