|Davis's Dependancy (standard:drama, 476 words)|
|Author: Otoshi Tsunami||Added: Sep 26 2000||Views/Reads: 2235/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Davis struggles with his addiction during a long, difficult night.|
Davis's Dependancy by Otoshi Tsunami Darkened grocery stores flashed like billboards on either side of Davis as he drove through the dark town of Redding, CA. He was driving fast, ignoring lights and signs, looking for a store, any store that might be open. THERE! A few hundred yards ahead, was that an OPEN sign? He wasn't sure, Davis was unfamiliar with this part of town, but it looked promising. He floored it... YES! He quickly parked his car and, not bothering to take the keys out, ran to the door, triumphant. Wait. He stopped, his hand on the door. What would he say? He knew what he needed, but how could he tell a convenience store clerk? Why did it always have to be this way, difficult? He took a breath, sighed, and walked in. The store was filthy, and smelled of cigarette smoke, despite the "NO SMOKING" signs posted throughout. A small woman, probably younger than she looked, sat behind the counter, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips, the filter soaked through. "I'm trying to quit," she croaked, as if in response to Davis's thoughts. A silence filled the small room as Davis looked at the woman, trying to say what he needed. She wasn't making things any easier. "Welcome to Lucky-Go-Mart," she said, "how can I help you?" Davis turned to leave. It wasn't worth it, having to come to a place like this. He looked around at the yellowed walls and greasy floor, saw the merchandise, caked with oily dust and bearing expiration dates suggesting early cold war paranoia. No. It wasn't worth it. He reached out and touched the door and thought about going home, to his empty house. To his television and soiled mattress, everything else gone, taken by his wife. He thought about getting up in how long? Four hours. He couldn't do it, he realized. He would get what he came for. He would go home and stay up the rest of the night. And he would manage to get to work, late. He would do it not because he wanted to, but because he had to. "Porn," he said, not looking at the woman. Davis drove home slowly. The paper bag on the seat next to him was reassuring, he felt calm. He came to a slow stop at a red light and looked around at the empty street. He felt almost euphoric, sitting there, alone. Maybe it was worth it after all. Maybe he could explain things to his wife, maybe she would be willing to come back. No, he realized, I've thought that before, tried that before. It was strange, he thought as he pulled away from the light, still red. His perpetual realization did not seem to deaden his mood, still wondrous. At least, not yet. Maybe tomorrow he would call his wife. Tweet
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