Just One Drink
It was just one drink. Just one. I didn’t think anything of it. One drink is practically just a couple sips, just something to make your head buzz a little bit. It was just one drink, nothing to worry about. Even when I fumbled putting my key into the ignition, I just laughed it off. Even when I started driving a little too fast down the dark road. As the lights blurred by and I realized I forgot my seatbelt, it was fine, because it was just one drink. Even when I tipsily grabbed around for my cellphone, it was alright. One drink wouldn’t hurt anyone. Even when I started nodding off from the drowsy, light-headed feeling the drink had given me, it was okay because I only had one. Just one. Of course, it was fine. It was fine until I swerved a little too much, and my seatbelt wasn’t there to hold me, and that one drink made my head too fuzzy to realize I needed to step on the break. Just that one drink send me flying through the windshield. Just that one drink had the glass shatter, making it bite and tear at my skin. Just one, simple drink, had my car crushed against a tree, and my body helplessly lying in front of it. Just one drink had the air leave my lungs, and my heartbeat dull into silence. Just one drunken drive ended who I was and who I will ever get the chance to be. Just one drink, and one push of a pedal. But it’s okay, because it was just one, right?