“What a waste of shelf space,” his Aunt Ethel used to say.
But Neil admired the way the light reflected off the bottles, making them glow. It hadn’t felt tedious watching Uncle Robert rearrange them, and he could feel the old man was happy as he did it.
A little away, Neil noticed a small flat marble stone sticking out from the garden lawn.
“For Little Bob,” it said, though his cousin’s grave was far away.
“One empty bottle for every month I’ve been sober,” Uncle Robert sniffed, placing another bottle on the old shelf.
(© 30th July 2015)