Infinity Bottle

Each evening seemed shorter than the one before. He didn’t remember it happening as quickly last year. Come to think of it, he had trouble recalling most of last year in any specificity—everyday felt the same. Regardless, it seemed that yet again, summer was coming to a close.

Over the past few years, he had slowly filled a crystal decanter with the last pours of different bottles of Bourbon that he enjoyed. Instead of letting the bottles come to an end, he added them to the decanter so that they could live on forever, creating a most rare blend. He seldom reached for the heavy vessel, but tonight felt right. 

He removed the dense stopper and poured a good splash of the reddish brown liquid into one of the two glasses that lived next to the bottle. It smelled like charred wood and burnt marshmallows, and he knew from experience a piece of ice would be required to tame this pour.

The ice cracked upon meeting the whiskey, and he watched as it started to melt, giving off sinewy bands that looked like oil dancing in water. At this point, there was no way to tell how many Bourbons and memories commingled within the glass. After a few minutes, the aroma intensified and the blend came to life. 

The first sip brought celebrations and sadness. Birthdays and funerals. Friends from far away and neighbors just across the street. Some he’d see tomorrow, and a few he’d never see again—all those memories live in the decanter. With his second sip, he thought how nice it was not to have to drink alone on a perfect summer evening like this.