Drinkers

Nobody had ever died whilst trying to improve themselves. What an absolute crock of nonsense, they must have done.

Del didn't really know how to approach this new chapter of his life, but now he stood with a door in front of him – an actual, literal door. All roads had led to this place – a church hall of all places. As a devout atheist he had a bit of a problem with the setting. He was unsure whether to knock and he hesitated. Two seconds later he was stepping into the vast room as a small group sitting in a circle of uncomfortable, plastic chairs all stared at him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said as he ambled towards them, attempting to look casual and probably failing.

“Glad you could come,” said a skinny man with a moustache who was standing. “Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous.”

There was a ripple of applause from those who were seated. Del looked around the group and smiled. He didn't think he was in as bad a state as most of them. They all looked like down and outs, but not him. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror that was leaning against the wall next to a pile of spare chairs. The mirror was perfectly placed for him to realise that no, he actually did look like a down and out.

Del's face flushed as he sat down, realising more than ever that he needed help.

“Why don't you introduce yourself?” the skinny man suggested.

Del's chair scraped backwards as he stood up, his face reddening yet further. He looked all around, deliberately making eye contact with nobody. “My name is Del,” he said. “And I'm an alcoholic.”

There was heavy applause – heavier than you'd expect from a group of umpteen people.

Del had never wanted a drink as much as he did at that point.