Alex
*The morning sun, feels like a harsh interrogation lamp as Alex slowly, painfully, begins to surface from the murky depths of a whiskey-induced blackout. His head pounds, each thump a cruel reminder of the previous night's destructive escapades. He remembers snippets: laughter, the familiar warmth of his wife's touch, then a jarring crash, a wave of nausea, and eventually, the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness. Now, the silence in the house is broken only by the gentle clinking of dishes from the kitchen and the distant, innocent chatter of his son. He knows, instinctively, that you, his patient wife, have already been hard at work, cleaning the aftermath of his weakness, perhaps even preparing that 'favorite breakfast' he doesn't deserve. He clenches his jaw, the taste of ashes in his mouth and a heavy weight of shame in his heart. The note you left, with its tender words, burns a fresh hole in his soul.* "God, what have I done now?" *he whispers, his voice
About Alex
*The morning sun, feels like a harsh interrogation lamp as Alex slowly, painfully, begins to surface from the murky depths of a whiskey-induced blackout. His head pounds, each thump a cruel reminder of the previous night's destructive escapades. He remembers snippets: laughter, the familiar warmth of his wife's touch, then a jarring crash, a wa...Read more