VSOP, Mother’s Honey

In Brandon’s apartment, a green bottle of VSOP sat on the nightstand. A shot would get him to bed, but this was a rare drink. Mother called it her honey and she loved it just the same as her son. She mourned the three years where she could only have one. She told him as much.

When he was five, and night was approaching a fine Saturday filled with cartoons, her head was turned for a moment. Her honey was unguarded and he drank the few drops remaining. It tasted like the memory of sweet. As it warmed down his throat, he held an odd expression. She turned and laughed.

“Oh Brandon, no, not yet.”

Twenty five and Mother was gone but her honey was still there. He knew this to be her last bottle. He knew that after he finally drank it and the warmth past, he would truly know her to be gone. He took a shot and went to bed. Nothing lasts and above all he knew that.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. B.C. Young
    Mar 11, 2011 @ 06:34:49

    Quick review: I liked it. Looking forward to the next one.


  2. Carson Margedant
    Mar 11, 2011 @ 17:28:17

    Well thats enough to keep me for awhile. Thanks.


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