And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
In Travis’ absence, I decided to make use of the time. Our living room still needed decorating, and I’d been meaning to put up the Christmas tree for days.
I blasted some holiday music and began hanging the stockings and stringing up the lights. It felt good: that familiar warmth of Christmas filling the house.
Hours passed, and I had nearly finished decorating the house when I heard the front door creak open. Travis stumbled in, his steps unsteady, and I could smell the alcohol on him from across the room.
He wasn’t just tipsy; he was drunk.
“Heyyyy, I’m home,” he slurred, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe for support.
I sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You said you’d be back early.”
“Yeah, well, I lost track of time,” he mumbled.
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