Member-only story
Written (no surprise here) “quite a while ago.” Please enjoy, this one I’m sure you will.
Under the original title “headache.”
Out of the darkness he emerged, walking pointedly into the kitchen. On a wooden shelf above the right of the sink he found what he was aiming for: a foil packet containing two pills. He ignored the shot glass behind the pills and the brown collection of now dried and abundantly dead flowers it contained — which themselves contained a rather sharp pin. They didn’t matter anymore.
He similarly ignored the time. As a matter of fact, this time he didn’t even glance at any of the few clocks remaining in the lonely brown house in which he lived — not even for an instant. They too were irrelevant, as was it. The only thing that mattered anymore was the sensation is his head. A sensation which must end now.
Now! Immediately and regardless of cost.
There were many ways to do it, of course. Far too many to count — a thing he’d gotten far too good at, if truth be told. Regardless of having a father who made a point of even saying, to himself and anyone else who might choose to listen to him blather on: “I don’t keep score.”
What really was the point if you didn’t keep score? You could be the toughest guy on the planet and it didn’t matter one bit if you didn’t know how to keep score properly.
Let’s say you punched someone square in the nose. It wasn’t hard to say — hell, he’d actually done that…
