the chemistry of nothing

There's a girl and she says;
"no one ever knows? Right?"
sure, I think, staring at the amber liquid in a glass in front of me. It stares back. Intent. Suicidal.
Drink me, you son-ov'a-bitch. I dare you.
It...mocks me. picking a fight it knows it won't win. The problem with alcohol, is that it relies on strength in numbers. Alcohol knows it's gonna loose a lot of rounds, but in the end, it tires you out, makes you think about giving up, and then, you do.
With the disgusted happiness of a boxer getting his head beaten apart, I worked off another two inches from the glass.
Turning to my left, she's still there. At first, I didn't think she was talking to me. Then it slowly dawned on me that she was.
damn.
Her mouth was moving, a strange noise spinning off her tounge and teeth. Her lips closed and pursed during various pauses in the noise, her noise. I stared at her mouth, took a drag from my cigarette, then looked back at the drink. The smoke exhaled over the liquid. I often enjoyed that sight.
I turned to my left again, and she was staring at me. I lowered my eyes.
didn't want to make eye contact.
Do I know her?
I looked back up cautiously, then stopped.
couldn't do it.
"How does it feel?" she says.
suddenly, I catch words that seem understandable.
"Are you talking to me?" I asked, looking up at her teeth.
There's a pause, and I'm taken-a-back.
"How does it feel?" the words linger with purpose.
Look back at my drink.
"It feels numb." I mumble, and the cigarette smoke drifts between us, manifestation of,
you know,
the distance between us.