Center: A Six Sentence Story

He attended the party begrudgingly, worn down by his work mates who were tireless in their efforts to get him back into circulation. It had been 27 weeks since she vanished, 27 weeks since he came home from work to find her morning cup of coffee still sitting on the kitchen table, cold as death, the newspaper neatly folded to the crossword puzzle, every square as blank as his stare, the very center of his being now as hollow and as empty as their bed.

The party was uptown and promised to be one of THE events of the season, if his office mates were to be believed, and as the door opened to the opulent space and the music and laughter swelled out into the hallway, enveloping him, he began to relax for the first time in 27 weeks as he felt himself drawn to the gaiety inside.

One of the men from accounting clapped him on the back and handed him a drink, the alcohol quickly spreading its warmth throughout his body and soul, and before he knew it, he was enjoying himself, laughing along with the others, savoring the smooth bourbon that never seemed to empty from his glass, even going as far as to dance with a few of the charming young women who graced the party.

The hour grew late, the crowd began to lessen, and he bid adieu to the host and hostess, thanking them for the lovely evening, content that he had finally taken the step needed to free himself from the past. He walked home with a lightness in his step and a fullness in his chest and was so caught up in the thrill of the evening that he didn't see the car careening down the street until he had already stepped off the crosswalk, catching only the gleam of familiar blue eyes before the impact.

Linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge's Blog for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "center"