The lack of uniformity in the ripples when he stepped into the puddle were an ode to the tipsy state Aamir was in. The ripples settled to reflect the neon sign of Roleks that was hanging on the side of a jewellery shop.
Aamir was happy today. He had been struggling financially. His bad habit; the dependence on alcohol, didn't do him any favours. Having found a new job just a month ago for loading warehouse merchandise into trucks, he had received his first salary. It wasn't much for the labour however he was happy that it was enough. As expected, he could not resist the call of temptation. He wanted that drink. He needed it.
He was making way to his favourite bar and along the way he figured it was only acceptable to have a few beers. A typical alcoholic, It hadn't taken long before he was on his 8th can of the devil's serum. It was the last day of the month and the night was young. Many like minded people were out and about and as he was pacing up the street, he made sure to stop along the way, hug an equally pissed bystander and sing an anthem of sorts.
Intimidating a few passers-by, Aamir was now totally out of it. Waving is his arms around and getting in people's faces while singing loudly. Not soon enough though. Just around the corner, he spotted the aged hardwood doors of the Singing Canary. This was his favourite bar. A few folk were standing outside having a smoke and chatting. Aamir sang his way in and literally leapt into the bustling bar.
The only person to register this enthusiastic entry was Irfan. This bar tender had given at least a decade to the canary and wasn't expected to stop anytime soon. Irfan immediately acknowledge his most regular customer who had disappeared for a while. A broad smile and hug greeted Aamir. Being an addict he could not care less and all the while, his eyes were set on the colourful bottles set up above the bar on the shelf. Even during the meet and greet, Aamir's joy wasn't lost on Irfan even though Aamir himself failed to notice his reflection on the mirrored wall. His face was glowing.
"First one's on the house!" said Irfan pouring Aamir a shot of his favourite whisky. Aamir, who was now almost foaming at the mouth, enthusiastically pulled a bar stool and took a seat as if a King took to the throne. He was certainly treated as such even though he himself couldn't care less. One swig is all it took, and the glass stood empty at the bar by the time the bar tender was back from doing his round around the bar.
A gracious smile followed by a generous pour. And as such the night went on till it was closing time. Much to Aamir's dislike he had to vacate and make his way home. He had one last shot before leaving and coincidentally only had a trickle left in the bottle. He asked Irfan for the supposed empty bottle. Now barely able to stand, he held the bottle to the light and noticed that there was a layer of the liquid left. With a wobble he moved close to a near by plant pot. In a dramatic way he held the bottle up looked around to face all the staff cleaning up and all the customers wrapping up to leave. He announced; "Appease the Gods I shall. Share with the angels I shall." With this he poured the last bit of whiskey left in the bottle into the pot and then slammed the bottle down on to the bar. With the bill paid, a smiling Irfan came over for one last hug before Aamir made his way out. After 8 cans of beer and who knows how many shots of whiskey he could barely hold himself up outside the door. It was dark and drizzling. Most of the shops had closed and there was limited traffic. Aamir knew had blown away half of his salary and that it was time to call it quits.
Barely walking in a straight line, he made his way to the edge of the footpath. A crossing was due. Desperate to appear sober, he failed miserably, however he made full effort to look both ways, while a crowd that could hold their drink giggled in the background.
A brown leather shoe at the side of the road. A large van with headlights on and skid marks behind it. Blood splattered on the grill of the van and brains on the road. Eyes open, Aamir twitched and stared into the emptiness of the dark sky. This holy invite was unexpected and even if it was, Aamir, the sort of person he was or rather the sort of state he was usually in, would not have been able to see it coming.
A typical addict who was happy to have his joyous fill and happy to have sorted out the Angel's Share. He had the look of a satisfied man. Content in all his flaws. Happy to be meeting the maker and saying good bye to this addiction and disease ridden mortal self.
Had wiser decisions been made and better habits adopted, who knows what could've happened. Nobody will ever know.