holds me till i ache

“Stop that,” he says, his words slightly slurred, finger waving in the air but not pointed anywhere near her. It won’t be long before he is asleep, she is certain. He still drinks like a student, but never seems to remember that he can’t hold his alcohol like he used to.“Stop what? Cleaning?”“Yes! You’re making me feel like a bad person.”“That’s because you are a bad person,” she retorts.“Shut up, I’m a delight – I’m lovely.”“Lovely would be someone actually following through on their promise to help clean up after everyone had left,” she argues, reaching to pick up another bottle.“I promised no such thing–”“You did. Many times.”“Well, that was sober me. He’s much more boring,” he answers, waving his hand dismissively. “Come and sit down. That can all wait ‘til tomorrow.”