I don't understand how some people can drink whiskey straight.
Just a glass, ice, and the amber liquid that promises to keep you company.
As a sip of the deceivingly refreshing drink washes over your taste buds that sharp ping of alcohol stings your throat.
Followed by the numbing sensation on your lips and tongue.
That little moment of no feeling at all.
The cold glass with slight drips of condensation running down the side suddenly becomes enticing.
There becomes no need for other people.
The clatter that the ice makes against the walls of the cup replaces the chatter of small talk.
A nervous handshake replaced by the grip of a sweaty glass.
A hug replaced by the warmth of the second serving.
A kiss replaced by the feeling of the whiskey flowing over your lip.
The feeling of your back hitting the bed replaced by becoming foggy and breathless after your third or fourth.
The cologne that lingers on your sheets replaced by notes of barley and oak.
I can understand why some can drink whiskey straight.
