CHRIS
The confused set of pieces
I stayed more sober than I thought, having held out, but I don’t know for how much time I’ll manage this. She’s there in my mind every minute, with me wearing myself out at the thought I can’t help her anymore. I can do nothing anymore and when I think back to the last conversation I had with her, her nails are digging into my palms, so I feel the pain of which I’m worthy.
What if I’d been blinded by the anger and distorted reality?
I dial her number without a second thought. The least she can do is shoot me off to Hell, so I set off already prepared for her insult.
“Are you okay?” is instead the first thing she asks me on answering.
I look up to the ceiling, knowing she can’t see me.
“Very well,” I reply, skipping the pleasantries. I almost give
