getting sleepy and a headache at the third family christmas, i curled up and whispered sidelong, remember when we used to smoke cigarettes in my big green room? when it would rain and we'd leave the windows open? that room was so tall, perfect for smoking in. and he said yes but we shouldn't ruin the memory by trying to relive it. and i said no no that's not what i meant, i just meant i liked that part of our lives. and he said yes. it's a good memory. a week into indefinite sobriety, the last drink i had was a thin flute of absinthe while chelsea was in town, lounging on pillows and pressed deep into her amber scent. i can feel my self withdrawing; seeing her showed me that what i've been trying to fashion into friendships has been desperation. i have to be careful in winter, and now i have to be careful for both of us. how much is too much. why this belief in the redemption of extremes.