You were curled up on the couch when your phone buzzed, displaying Harold’s name. A wave of apprehension washed over you as you answered.

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey… it’s me,” he slurred, the unmistakable sound of alcohol coloring his words. “I’m sorry… about earlier. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.”

You could hear the pain in his voice, mixed with the haze of drunkenness. “Harold, we were both upset. It’s okay,” you replied, but your heart ached for him.

“I just wanted to see you,” he continued, his tone softening. “I miss you baby. Please, can you come over..to the..Neon Bar..?”