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I can figure this shit out I can I rubin the rain, but I don’t know if I can Everything’s so fucking soggy

I roll out of bed and do so jacks A hundred Then three hundred sit-ups Two hundred push-ups I reh I need to get her to feel relief

I run around the house for half an hour, feeling like a fucking nut, before I sink into the tub again, rubbing at the film of dissolved pill residue around it

Fuck

I lean my head back, exhale slowly

My arh the bubbles and squint at ertips Water ripples all around them I close my fists, draw them back under

I can run after the rain stops

I kill so r

eal card solitaire, sitting on a wooden stool under the awning over the back porch The sound of waves crashing against the rocks behind the house should be a soothing one, but it makes me feel jumpy Almost fearful

Back inside, I pull on a shirt and force s When it’s five, I slide rab an umbrella, and make my way down to the pub

“What can I get you?” The old man behind the counter has to raise his voice so I can hear above the rain that’s pelting the tin roof He’s sh, as if I’m not the only asshole in the bar, the one who made him set his book down and put on his apron

“Rusty Nail?” It’s posed as a question because I don’t kno familiar he is with mainstream drinks

He gives me a small smile

“Heavy on the scotch Please”

“One Rusty Nail coht up”