Vacated Atmosphere

She knew alcohol was a bad prescription for the depression that ailed her but it was a necessary evil to chase away certain demons.

What wasn’t necessary was the incessant song of nightingales that dragged her from a drunken stupor and even though she was barely lucid, Priscilla knew her husband was gone. The vacated atmosphere of the tiny one bedroom apartment was undeniable and final.

It was the exact same feeling as when her father abandoned her as a young child which forced her into the foster care system that shattered her brittle spirit.