[oom] Searching
El carino que te tengo, yo te no lo puedo negar. The love I have for you, I cannot deny.
Se me sale la babita, yo no lo puedo evitar. My mouth is watering, I just can't help myself.
[ lyrics Chan Chan - Buena Vista Social Club ]
She comes back from her trip to the bar and drops the bag she's carrying on the couch. She heads straight for the bar, her face set in a fierce glare. She finds the good whiskey and pours herself a generous two fingers, drinking it down in one go. She leans against the counter, eyes closed, feeling the burn as it coats her throat and settles with a burst of warmth behind her breast bone.
She wants to cry. She is not someone who allows herself to cry. She takes another deep breath and pours again, not drinking it just yet. This is not Sarajevo. This is not Berlin. This is not Dublin. She's not bleeding or broken. She's got all her fingers and both eyes. She knows he's here, safe. He doesn't love you.
For a long moment, she wants to call Michael. But she can't hear more about Carla right now. She can't be that person right now.
What the hell was she thinking? What the fuck was she doing there? What the fuck is she doing here? Where do you fit in, little Irish girl?
"Get it together," she hisses at herself, swirling the whiskey in the glass.