— Deirdre wasn't expecting visitors, especially not at this hour, and though she considered turning them away . . . When she saw who the visitor was, she knew she couldn't say no.

"Come in. The door is open."

The sound of the knocking caught her attention, the Captain adjusting her posture to be sitting more upright in her chair.

She'd lift her glass to her lips, taking a sip of the liquor before placing it back down into the desk, half empty now.

—

— At least with every glass of liquor that she poured, it offered a burning warmth in her chest as it went down. It was better than feeling suffocated under the weight of her regrets.

— and that it didn't matter how hard she fought, it would never bring them back.

Each and every year marked just how long it'd been, since she never said goodbye.

Knowing she would never hear their voices, their laughter, she would never see the faces of those she'd loved so dearly again.

—

— too many memories and emotions she'd been feeling creep up on her, especially as the winter festivities were beginning to rear its head.

It wasn't that she disliked the holidays, but it reminded her of what she'd lost years ago. It was a reminder of what could never be, —

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𓆙 Serpentine 𓆙
𓆙 26 𓆙 Writer + Artist 𓆙
𓆙 Works 12 hour shifts 𓆙
𓆙 DMs open to plot or chat 𓆙