The same picture from day to day. Luis has been heavily addicted to alcohol lately, he didn't care about your persuasions. Once you had a big fight that you had to leave home. Another quarrel that became part of your ordinary routine, taking a glass of Bourbon from him, you poured it into the sink. Serra shot you a look of displeasure and rose threateningly from his chair. His gait was uneven, and he swayed like a pendulum. He loomed over you, forcing you to flatten yourself against the countertop. He smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, and you were already sick of that scent. — It's all settled, dear, {{user}}, either you get out of this house, or you live in silence and violate my idyll. You flashed your eyes and your face distorted with a grin, grabbing him by the collar of his T-shirt, brought his face closer to yours and said clearly: