The End by Daria Voshchatynska

The beautiful reflection of the young moon

fills the opened bottle of whiskey. The soft light shines into the drink, making it look magical and helping you forget things for a little while.

Bright spots of light move on the glass every time you touch it. They break into small glowing dots, flying through the whiskey like little fireflies, then come back together in the shape of a crescent moon. The silver light mixes with the orange-brown colour of the whiskey, making it feel like a special drink.

It feels cold on your lips. The alcohol goes into your mouth, burns your throat a little, and slides down to your stomach leaving a strong, bitter taste and a feeling like ice inside you.

“Sash, I can’t do this anymore,” Ryoza whispers, hiding his eyes behind his long fringe. “I just can’t, do you understand?”

“What do you mean?” you answer distractedly, still working on the clock mechanism the lonely old neighbor brought yesterday. She promised to give you a handmade scarf as thanks - a nice gift for a job that will take less than an hour. And Ryoza will probably like it too…

“I’m leaving.”

You flinch and finally look up from your work.

“What are you talking about? Leaving where?”

“I’m leaving you,” he says after a short pause, staring at the floor.

“Very funny,” you try to smile. “Or maybe not. I’ve told you before - your sense of humor is strange.”

“I’m serious.” And the look on his face shows he’s not joking.

“No…” you breathe out, feeling a cold fear squeezing your chest. You’ve never felt this scared before. “No, wait…”

“We both knew this would happen sooner or later,” he says quietly.

“That’s not true!” you shout, throwing the tools aside and jumping up. “What are you even saying?! I wanted to spend my whole life with you! At least that!”

“You don’t have time for that life. Or for me,” he replies coldly. “I thought I could live with that. But… I couldn’t,” he adds, as if not hearing you at all.

“But that’s not a reason… not enough… Please, tell me this is just a stupid joke!”

“I’ve already made my decision. Goodbye, Sasha.” He says the words like a sentence - and walks away.

And you just stand there. Frozen. Helpless. Not even able to move a finger. Only a quiet, broken sound escapes your lips, a reminder that you’re still alive.

A week has passed.

You can’t remember who you are.

You can’t find peace.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

You keep blaming yourself - again and again.

Why didn’t I give him more time?

Why wasn’t I more attentive?

What did I do wrong?

Your thoughts are eating you alive.

Each memory feels like a sharp piece of glass.

You replay every word, every look, trying to understand.

And with each day, the guilt grows stronger.

It stays with you.

Hurts you.

Lives inside you - while you…

no longer really live at all.