Fifteen Minutes

"Are you okay?"
He shouted through the passenger side window of his car.
I gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile.
"Are you sure?"
Thumbs up and slightly better looking smile.
"I'll buy you a drink when I get back in 15 minutes!"
He shouted again through his passenger side window rolling it up this time and driving away. As if that offer made all difference in the world. I'll be in the arms of someone softly holding me in 15 minutes. I'll be crying my eyes out to family in fifteen minutes. I'll be forgetting that I had a nervous break down in front of a bar in fifteen minutes. I'll be vacuuming the floor I promised to vacuum in fifteen minutes. I'll be doing the dishes, the trash, put the dog to bed,  all the menial work that keeps a relationship alive.
I'll be soothing myself, I'll be talking myself down, I'll be making amends, concessions and compromises that will hurt but be for the ultimate good in fifteen minutes.
In fifteen minutes time this will all be over, brushed away and gone because I am who I am and there's nothing that drink can do to make that any different.

And after fifteen minutes I don't know what the hell I'll do with this life.