>>6430079
>Find something to Drink
Just dew it

>>6430079
>Find something to Drink

>>6430084
>>6430155
>Find something to Drink
Shuffling between the bed, desk, piles of clean but unfolded clothes and whatever else you have to your name.
The small sum total of your life that it is.
The thin dividing door swings open, light and flimsy on groaning hinges.
A cold hallway stares back.
The hallway to your apartment. The far end leads out of the apartment, a triple lock keeping the metal door in it’s frame and the concrete exterior further beyond outside.
Into the kitchenette, it conjoins with the small living room. A poverty twin.
The quilt covered couch was unattended and the box television opposite it is turned off.
The balcony doors line one wall, providing a look out into the city.
The fridge was slim but tall, allowing space for enough food for a small family.
More than enough for two echoes of men.
Testing the tap, it takes a coughing start and then chilly water flows.
Turning it off, nature takes its course.
Under the sink, wooden-chip doors reveal a thick bottle of samogon.
Nestled safely between a collection of cleaning supplies.
It lands with a plink on the counter top.
Moving to the fridge there is a thin selection every man needs. Cheese, Sausage, bread.
A jug of homemade juice, you aren’t sure the source of the liquid however.
In the small freezer a tub of homemade ice cream from last year remains. Half eaten.
You can’t remember who’s half.
Seems your uncle thinks the same.
As neither one of you has finished it yet.
Next to it a fresh bottle of Maлeнький мaльчик Premium Vodka.
The good stuff.
You utter a soft curse as it joins the array of drinks. freezing your hand.
Looking for a glass you find your favorite, a flowery long container.
You smile softly at the picture of summer, bright even in the nightlit room.
Blue smoke dances as a sound resounds through the space.
Lazy Mule burning hard. The balconly doors bang.
Glancing over, something flutters off the tight concrete balcony.
A bird most likely, or some dumb cat.
Your neighbor has a cat you think.
You haven't been outside in a while.
But there was one in the walkway outside the last time you did.
As you think about wether it was a ginger tabby or a calico another bang comes from the balcony.
looking harder you can't spot the source.
Tapping your smoking stick on the sink. Another hard pull keeps it shrinking, the urge for drinking rises.
Staring at your selection you are faced with some choices.
>Drink the Vodka.
>Drink the Samogan
>Drink some Water.
>Drink the "juice"
>Check the balcony
>Do something else <WRITE IN>

>>6430167
>>Drink the Vodka

>>6430167
>Drink the Vodka.

>>6430171
>>6430174
>Drink the Vodka.
Glory, glory, glory.
With a smile and a nod of respect to the competition, you pick up the vodka.
Ice, cold, frosty. Water frozen all across the outside of the bottle.
The cap pops off, metal clasps giving way with an experienced twist.
The tiles naturally get the first taste.
Just a few drops.
For the Dead.
Something bangs against the balcony again.
Fucking cat probably looking for food.
A shot slips into the glass, rolling around.
Blowing across the rim makes the glass sing.
And to that song you down the first shot.
A kiss from reality, waking you up with a slap on the ass and a pinch on the cheek.
Fire spreads from your throat to your chest.
Only now aware of the chill in the apartment.
With a satisfied smile you pour another.
Second shot, it doesn’t resist. Glass against lips, it sings another note this time.
Woodwind against the drink.
The third is filling the cup as another knock resounds from the balcony.
Tapping this time.
A light rapping.
You look. Nothing is there again.
Must be the wind, everything has holes in it.
The state of urban decay
Poetic really. Must be the air pressure.
Before long the buzz is there.
Sweet serenade of joy. A rousing second wind. Hands hold out time, pointing between angles in the dark, glowing. Probably bloody radioactive green spots.
3:40am
With one final puff the Mule rolls over dead, finding its own place into the nearby bin.
The place was quiet, only the tick and tock. The knocking is gone for now.
The wind remained, held back by the glass and enclosing walls.
Voices. From out in the walkway seem to bicker, low, not enough however.
“Don’t do that. Not like this. It isn’t my fault. Fuck her. Bitch him.
Neighbors. The urge to eavesdrop rearing it’s head, egged on by the quickly drunkening state.
You take a fourth shot, a bigger one this time. Sipping it like a distinguished gentleman.
Your PC was beckoning. But with a belly full the words and sights and sounds and prospects began to prosper.
>Easavesdrop on the people outside
>Return to your PC
>Watch some TV
>Smoke another Cigarette
>Check the balcony

>>6430186
>>Easavesdrop on the people outside

>>6430186
>Check the balcony

>>6430190
>>6430194
>Easavesdrop on the people outside
>Check the balcony
Sipping on the vodka you move to the balcony first. Tender, tender to the mind, a thin grin graces your face.
The Banging bangone now.
Floating on a silent river, only the waves of words from what sounds like women.
Two, a duo of women.
Power permeating from the vodka.
Looking through the glass door, nothing stands out.
The orange glow of streetlights simmer. Mellow against the tone from outside.
Words you miss out on as the door slides open, cold races in and the drone, chirp and beep of distant city life floods in.
“Then he kissed her!” “The Bastard!” “Bastard!” “Bastard!” “Bastard!”
Spilling across the floor and settling in the corners.
Outside hits hard, early life is a constant on the planet. Cold. fresh. Burningly crisp.
Dampening the vodka in your bloodstream.
Looking around the street further below is empty, the only life seemingly come from your block and right outside your door.
You don’t know what day it is or was before and now or when.
Time wasn’t a concept to you. Sleeping, waking, dreaming and living.
What's the difference?
Nothing catches your attention, eyes roll along the frame of the door. Gods know who put the thing together. You’d remind your uncle when you see him next.
Moving inside, your mind notices and oddity.
Small hand prints litter the exterior of the glass doors. Palm open, pressed forward not in prayer but prepared to enter.
Fucking kids.
One fell to their death from a balcony before, was sneaking out to drink, using a rope made of sheets and shit like that.
From the thirteenth floor.
Talk about unlucky.
Slip, shut, snip, latch lock. The outside world is once more beyond a barrier.
A lightness lifts your shoulders as the girls outside continue.
Ghoulike in pose, the apartment door finds you in a handful of slow, delicate steps.
Eye finding the hole with skill.
Peeping on the ladies no less, Through the bulbing glass you can see the long walk, one side is lined with doors similar to your own.
Two barely dressed women stand by one of the doors.
Leather clad and gooseflesh peaking all over.
“Hurry up, my nipples are gonna fall off”
One with bright pink hair and piercings all over her body complained. Huffing and rubbing her arms.
The second, lime green this one, bends over. Fiddling with the key in her lock.
“Damn thing is jammed!”
The pink one doesn’t let up. Grabbing her friend by the waist and humping her.
“Warm me up baby! Warm me up!” the drunken lady cheers, providing steady and even thrusts.
“Get off! I’m trying to open this bloody thing”
The annoyed lime complains, jostling her door.
Something moves further down the walkway, a shadow flickers under the fluorescent light.
Someone or something
Probably a cat.
>Keep watching
>Offer to help
>Go back to PC
>Drink more vodka
>Smoke another cig

>>6430229
>Offer to help

>>6430229
>>Go back to PC
MC sounds lobotomised as fuck
A proper neet
Time to browse some 2ch
Bottom text

>>6430229
>Drink more vodka
Let's get wasted!