Raphael stumbled through the doorway of his study, his legs trembling beneath him as he struggled to maintain his balance. The room spun around him, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that refused to come into focus. He had drunk far too much, and now his body was paying the price.
As he staggered deeper into the study, his eyes landed on a figure standing by the bookshelf. For a moment, his foggy brain thought it was Sophia, his wife, searching for a book or perhaps waiting for him to finish his work.
Dorothy's eyes widened in alarm as Raphael approached her, his movements unsteady and his breath reeking of alcohol. She had been sent by his mother to retrieve a file from the study, but now she found herself face to face with a man who seemed barely conscious.
"Raphael, sir, perhaps you should sit down," she ventured, trying to keep her voice steady.