Listening

She wiped her cheeks dry and reached for the glass on the coffee table and emptied it of gin. When the time came to talk to them, she'd tell them whatever happened she'd always be there for them.
"You’re both my only reason for living," she said aloud to the room.
The silence mocked her.
She stared at the television. It was off.
"It’s not that I want someone to talk to," she whispered to her reflection in the tv screen, "it’s more that I need someone to hear me. Just to listen."
The night wore on, refusing to listen.