Help a Brother

I had misintoxicated myself, as clarified, and had since felt heebie-jeebie. The Doctor said I needed help.

Units in a box, stuck, unable to leave because the door is not working. A second pill would cancel anxiety caused by the first and a third would make it possible to sleep.

After time and in progressive manner we would decrease dosage because medication was wrong; but I felt strange, so I gathered courage and admit to discomfort - relief! we would hold off.

But you’ll be back.

Business aside he shared his excitement in the news of his daughter’s return from the Mississippi where she had finally started disliking black people. I always told her they were like our gypsies.

My heavy past, he empathized, was to blame. I too at times feel like leaving the office and drinking three martinis really fast, he said and from his jacket removed a pack of light cigarettes.