He didn’t know why he was grumpy, which only made him grumpier. If that was possible. There was no cause for it, other than ingratitude. He screamed at that intrusive thought, telling it he was ungrateful, that he knew how lucky he was. He had a home, a steady paycheck, knew where his next meal was coming from. Lucky indeed.
When he began arguing with the voices in his head, he knew he was in trouble. Sometimes he dreamed of trepanning himself, let all the bad spirits out. Instead, he reached for another drink.
See the author’s published work here.
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