MEMORIES TO FORGET

It was exactly 7pm and Gideon Romero held the glass of whisky firmly against his palms. If only he could have held unto his family as firm as this, then maybe they would still be together. Ryan wouldn’t be dead, Emma wouldn’t have left and Gideon wouldn't look like shit. He honestly didn’t care how he looked at this a point. All he cared about was how many bottles of whisky he could drink to forget. He was on his second bottle and it was working hours. It’s the good thing he owned the company. He had specifically told Judy not to allow any visitors into his...