Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Priscilla wasn’t a foolish woman, she knew full well that alcohol was a bad prescription for the depression that ailed her but it was a necessary evil to help keep her personal demons at bay.

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 that 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.

Some people simply weren’t meant to be loved, and what good was love anyway if the person you attached your happiness, hopes and dreams to could walk away so easily?

But she’d show them, show them all how it felt to be left behind. Her plan was to drink herself to death so then they, all the theys who ever abandoned her, would have to choke on her vacated atmosphere.