Title: "The Last Drink"

      Jake sat alone in his apartment, staring at the bottle on the table. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge, a sound that somehow felt louder than his thoughts.
      He wasn’t sure when drinking had stopped being fun. Maybe it was the night he missed his mother’s birthday because he “wasn’t feeling well.” Or maybe it was the morning he woke up on the floor, not remembering how he got there. What he did remember was the emptiness, a kind of silence inside that alcohol could never really fill.
      He used to tell himself he was in control. But now, as he looked at his shaking hands, he knew the truth: the bottle was in control.
      Then he noticed a small piece of paper taped to his door his sister’s handwriting:
      “Jake, you’re still my brother. Come home when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”
      For a long moment, he just stared at it. The part of him that wanted to change the part he’d buried  began to stir. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a way back.
      He picked up his phone and called the number his counselor had given him months ago.
      “Hello, this is Alcoholics Anonymous,” a voice said.
      Jake hesitated. His throat tightened. Then, quietly, he answered,
      “Hi… My name's Jake. I think I’m ready to stop.”
      The voice on the other end didn’t rush him or judge him. It just said,
      “That’s a brave first step, Jake. You’re not alone.”
      For the first time in years, Jake felt a small sense of peace. The bottle was still there on the table, but this time, he turned away.
      Outside, morning light broke through the clouds, a reminder that even after the darkest nights, there’s always another sunrise.