She sat on the steps of her front porch and lit a cigarette. She inhaled greedily and raised her eyes to the starless sky. Sometimes she missed stars. The price you pay to live in the city.
“God,” she began in a soft shaky voice that was slurred with whiskey, “What the fuck am I doing? I’m 25 years old, a fuckin bartender, no kids, no man. I have three degrees I can’t do shit with. I’m a god damned alcoholic. I cant keep doing this but”
Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she choked on her words
“I don’t know what to do. Please. Help me. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
She wiped away her tears and finished her cigarette. Then she stumbled to her room, poured herself another shot, and cried herself to sleep.