walked by and seen it. There aren't many reasons to grip
a brown bag and put it to your lips.
Work had been a bore that day, it usually was. He drove
to the liquor store near his house and bought a cheap 40oz.
bottle of malt liquor.
It wasn't just work that was boring, his life had fallen into
a rut that got deeper every time he woke up. The drink
was always something that soothed the dull ache.
From his porch he could see the glowing lights of neighboring
windows. Occasionally a car would drive by at the speed limit.
His body glowed with an inner warmth.
It wasn't so bad now. Sleep would come soon. Night became
a fading memory as the newspaper landed in the driveway.
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