“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” George Bernard Shaw

I’ve often wanted to start a whisky blog, but the dilettante that I am is only doing it because every fleeting moment I find I want to do something else.

Maybe we need a child. Maybe we needed a child. Too old now. Maybe she could have a child. Start a life without me. Don’t have much to look forward to now. Doubt I will either.
Can’t deal with this pain. I hate these feelings. Why me? What did I do wrong? Think about something else! Think about something else! Please.
Richard stops at an open field and exits the car.
EXT. OPEN FIELD – NIGHT
Richard walks deep into the center of the field and stops. He stands and stares at the darkness, then begins crying uncontrollably and collapses to his knees.
CUT TO:
INT. RICHARD & ELIZABETH’S LIVING ROOM
Elizabeth sits on the settee with the phone to her ear, crying intensely.
ELIZABETH: I can’t believe I told him, what do I do now? What have I done?
CAROLINE (PHONE): Liz, calm down! He’s probably off somewhere thinking. He’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, okay?
ELIZABETH: He walked out without saying a word. He wouldn’t even look at me. What have I done? [beat] What. Have. I. Done?
CAROLINE: Look, I’ll come over. You’re drunk, you’re overreacting. He’ll be back soon. I’ll sit with you for a while.
ELIZABETH: Caroline, I don’t want to lose him. I need him. I don’t want this to be over. I love him… He’s all that I have.
CAROLINE: Calm down, he’ll be home soon. I’m heading over.
CUT TO:
INT. STEVE’S BEDROOM
Steve lies soundly asleep in his bed.
CUT TO:
INT. RICHARD & ELIZABETH’S LIVING ROOM – 7:02AM
Caroline lies on the settee, passed out. Elizabeth, semi-conscious, drags herself out of the room towards the sound of the booming alarm clock radio from upstairs.
CUT TO:
INT. COFFEE SHOP
Richard sits alone in a greasy spoon coffee shop. Cheap furniture and a semi visible kitchen along with a stained counter surround him. The coffee shop is sparsely occupied.
He strokes his untouched and now lukewarm mug of black coffee.

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