We don't always measure time in units of seconds and hours. Sometimes we inadvertently collide the dimensions of space and time and calculate the elapsed period in terms of miles. I have been counting my separation from alcohol in perhaps the same terms these days.
We were friends (indeed, in need as well as in deed). Good friends. A relationship that was mostly "on the rocks". Always through "thick", never thinned by adulteration of any kind. But it's not that we were drifting apart. Perhaps we needed our own space, our own precious distance.
In terms of time though, it's close to a couple of months now. Certainly our maximum separation in the last thirteen odd years of a rather close acquaintance. Today it sits still inside it's bottle. Ageing itself. Waiting perhaps, for those secrets to start pouring out, at almost the same rate at which the drops flow.
There are withdrawal symptoms as well. Though I don't know what those symptoms are, but I am sure I can attribute a few stomach cramps to my abstention policy. But just like all such side-effects, these too shall subside as the distance between us grows further...
Frankly, I don't know if it's really over, but one thing's for sure --- the hangover still remains...
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