Waiting for it to Work

by joetwo

The bedroom still smelled lived in, a heady mix of farts and sex as I lay down on a bed that was now too big for me. The doors of the cupboards were still open, vacant, in a taunting symbolism, less than half filled with the battered remnants of my life.

Still, no matter. It isn’t important. The case of sleeping pills were slowly working their way through my system. I only need to wait, just a little bit more, and nothing would matter any more.

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