Talen Returns

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen decided that what she needed was to get drunk. She tidied herself up and drove to the local bottle shop to spend half an hour browsing the aisles, selecting bottles. The drive through section was busy, and she had the aisles mostly to herself.

She hummed along to the radio as she idled down the rows of wine and thought of Heath and how she had always been impressed by his casual ease in ordering wine. Even five years on, she had no idea what she was doing and selected mainly by how attractive the label, name, or bottle shape was to her.

“That’s a good one,” Chris Arren, her father’s friend, said from behind her.

“Oh,” she put it back on the shelf.

“You remember me?” He picked up the bottle and tucked it under his arm. “Chris Arren?”

“Yes, I remember,” she said uncomfortably, continuing down the aisle, pretending to browse. “It’s nice to see you again,” she lied. She was not in the mood for other human beings.

“You haven’t called, about the group…?”