His condition worsened each day in the hospital. Yet even while wearing an oxygen mask, he remembered his strange ritual.
Every evening at nine, he called me.
“Did you drink your glass?”
“Yes.”
I was lying.
In truth, I hadn’t swallowed a single drop since he was admitted. A few hours before his death, he motioned for me to come
closer.
“Promise me you’ll continue.”
Legal aid services
“First tell me what’s inside that bottle.”
Victor’s eyes filled with tears.
“It contains everything I could never bring myself to tell you.”
“Have you been harming me?”
He tried to answer, but he no longer had the strength. He only shook his head and squeezed my hand. Victor died that night.
After the funeral, I returned home and sat alone at our kitchen table for the first time. It was nine o’clock. The bottle was still
