Now you see me surrounded by friends. They all look so cute around me, smiling at everything I say. One might even think that they look at me fondly, but they aren’t looking at me, they only look at what I hold in my hand: on that depends their friendship. I don’t want them to go, so I hold the bottle carefully, trying to lengthen the minutes, to prolong to its maximum this situation. The smallest oversight and they will disappear from my side, and I want to have them here, just like now, smiling at everything I say.

A gulp less and their friendship becomes weaker, with every sip they cease to love me a little: when none of the liquid is left they will hate me.

I don’t want to hand over this bottle because it’s near its end and I want to have them like this, around me, a little longer. I want to be surrounded by friends; I speak to entertain them, but their looks on the bottle become unavoidable. One has already asked me shyly to pass it to him, another one follows:
_Or drink yourself a little, but move it!
_One second, I reply.

And this is how the inevitable moment is approaching, when the bottle is empty and I’ll be left alone, as always, my friends will not love me anymore and leave.

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