Just the start of something that I'll probably (eventually?) continue…

The red wine bottle fell to the floor as it slipped from the hand of a disheveled woman that was too far gone to even notice the red stain quickly forming on the beige carpet as the rest of the bottle's contents spilled forth. She heaved herself down upon the leather couch, pulling a dark blue throw pillow over her head to block out the world that she futilely tried to drink away. It was just one more night in a long line of nights that ended this way. Who knew six months ago that this was what she would become? A functioning drunk, much the same as her father had been. Funny, that. She'd spent the majority of her years trying not to be exactly what she'd become. In rare moments of sobriety she'd wonder what it was that had sent her father over the edge, wonder if it was the same sort of broken heart that had sent her in the same direction. But what does it matter? She would never find out now anyways. It was 10 years too late to ask that question. And even if she'd had the driving curiosity to ask it back then, she doubted her father would've had the presence of mind long enough to actually answer it. No, it was better not to know anyways.

It didn't take long after making contact with the couch before she was passed out, so completely oblivious to the world around her that she never even noticed the man sitting in an armchair by the fireplace watching her stumble her way across the room and onto the sofa.