His father was dead. Sage had spent the past few weeks replaying the last visit from his father. Replaying the look of disappointment on his face after learning about Sage’s life of petty criminality. Replaying the sadness in his father’s face when Sage had blamed his current circumstances on his lack of support. Replaying that last look they’d exchanged, those last unspoken words before his father had left for the last time.
A bottle had always been close since then. His mother had cut Sage from the will entirely for leaving home. He had also not been invited to the funeral. So that night, while his family paid their respects in person, Sage felt a single bottle wouldn’t suffice. His local bars also considering him an unwelcome presence, he instead ventured into the city—somewhere he was unknown, somewhere he could forget himself, one drink at a time.