The world beneath Ray's feet seemed to waver like an unsteady mirage. His gaze fixated on the crimson contents swirling within the glass held in his trembling hands. It was only the third pour, yet the room had already started a subtle dance around him, leaving him precariously perched on the edge of inebriation.
"I reckon it's time for me to retire," he mumbled, rising from his seat with knees that betrayed a subtle weakness. As he began the ascent of the staircase, an intricate ballet of imbalance disguised as casual movement, he hoped to conceal the telltale signs of his unsteady state.
"Good night, Mum. Night, Dad," his words echoed faintly, an attempt to maintain composure as he navigated the uncertain terrain of the stairs.
