David’s POVSince today, I had been cooped up at home.The house was quiet—too quiet. The silence pressed against my ears, so heavy it felt like a punishment.I sat slumped on the couch, the bitter smell of alcohol hanging around me like a suffocating fog. Empty bottles crowded the center table, some toppled onto their sides, a few rolling near the rug.The air was thick, stagnant, the AC switched off sometime in the night. Sweat clung to my skin, sticky and uncomfortable, but I hadn’t moved for hours.Finally, with a groan, I forced myself up. My movements were sluggish, my head pounding with a hangover that clung like vines around my skull.I pushed aside the bottles littering the table, the clinking sound sharp in the still air.The curtains were drawn, shutting out the sun. The living room was dark, gloomy. I dragged my feet to the window and yanked the panels apart. Light poured in immediately, flooding the room with harsh brightness. Dust floated in the rays, and I squinted, shi
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