The dazzle of lights and revelry in the pub had no effect on him. He drank incessantly, one glass after another.
An empty bottle now sat on the table.
He felt stifled, extremely stifled, and restless, as if trying to stop something, yet unable to intervene. It was this feeling of wanting to act but being powerless, like thousands of ants gnawing at his heart, that made it difficult for him to breathe. Alcohol was his only respite from this suffocation.
But with each glass of amber liquor he consumed, his mind seemed to sharpen. Images of his elder brother Glades Horne, robust and exuding an aura of nobility, would flash through his mind, followed by the lofty and genteel figure of Julia Bluen. Sometimes, the two people who occupied his thoughts would stand together in his mind.
As the younger brother, it was his duty to assist in preparing for the wedding. But he didn't want to touch anything related to his brother's wedding because it would cause him pain.
