Olivia stood at the harborside, watching as the last ship of the night unloaded. In her hand, she held a flask that she consistently took nips from. The world reeled around her, spinning as she poisoned her body with more drink. When the final man stepped off the ship and her efforts once again proved fruitless, the young woman sighed and walked along the docks, seeking the first open bar she could find. It didn't take long, and soon she was seated in a corner of one of the establishments.

She ordered an entire bottle of whiskey and a glass to go with it and set upon her usual habits. She drank. More and more. So much so that soon her vision was entirely blurry and she felt disoriented. Exactly what she needed! Tears brimmed among her eyes and soon spilled over as she finally came to the realization that her sister was right: he wasn't coming back. Her heart ached and pain bubbled in her chest, driving her to take a deep gulp from her glass. She refilled it.

Life was dull to Olivia; her heart had been torn in two after her betrothed came down with cold feet. Another drink, as the memory of standing brilliantly at the alter, alone, surfaced.

Olivia wept quietly, tending to her pain with more and more drink until she hit the point that there was no going home: she'd have to rent a room in one of the nearby hotels. It didn't matter though--alone, in a hotel room, she could escape the clucking of her family's tongue over her inability to finally stop mourning the man she loved.