Defining Choices (Open)
Feb 6, 2011 13:25:56 GMT -5
Post by Dr. Henry Ramsey on Feb 6, 2011 13:25:56 GMT -5
It was that time of year again--the time of year when teddy bears and chocolates rose in hordes to populate every storefront. Cupid clung to every salient surface like a bad tattoo, and the florists belched the cloying perfumes of a thousand blossoms of imported exotica and roses. To add insult to injury, the great beast February had provided a sky of such profound and unbroken grey that Henry could understand people with Seasonal Affective Disorder--they probably only wanted to slit their wrists so they could see color every winter.
Henry Ramsey had not always been so bitter and cynical around Valentine's Day, but if this candy coated Hallmark holiday had a Grinch, it was him. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the existence of true love; he'd found that, and things hadn't turned out like the fairy tale in his imagination. It was as if for one magical day, the world forgot about its differences for just long enough to rub his face in his misery.
And if there was one thing he could be sure of, it was that he was miserable. His various mental deficiencies and neuroses didn't like to strike when it was convenient, preferring to hit him on the weekends when he was left to his own devices.On days like this, Henry had taken to wearing his fifteen year chip from Narcotics Anonymous around his neck like a talisman to ward off evil (which was, in a way, not so far from the truth). He had been so distracted by his mental discomfort when he left the house for a walk that he'd gone right into autopilot, catching a bus and taking it downtown.
Now that he was here, he wasn't doing much but wandering aimlessly through the snowy sidewalks. Idiot, he thought to himself, if you'd pulled this crap in the old neighborhood, you'd have been mugged by now, and serve you right.
He didn't stop his wandering until he found himself bathed in the familiar garish glow of the liquor store's sign. He didn't make a move toward the door, but he didn't walk away either, mind quietly racing. All of that frantic thought was as uselessly as a dog hunting its own tail. He knew that the cravings weren't rational, which made them all the more infuriating. Whatever logical argument his mind constructed, the rejoinder remained the same: it was just one little drink, and the world wouldn't end if he had just one little drink...
It was funny, he thought, fidgeting with his wedding band, after all these years Hazel still had him tied up in knots every Valentine's Day, even when she wasn't there. Somewhere in the dim periphery of his awareness, Henry noticed that it had begun to snow.
Henry Ramsey had not always been so bitter and cynical around Valentine's Day, but if this candy coated Hallmark holiday had a Grinch, it was him. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the existence of true love; he'd found that, and things hadn't turned out like the fairy tale in his imagination. It was as if for one magical day, the world forgot about its differences for just long enough to rub his face in his misery.
And if there was one thing he could be sure of, it was that he was miserable. His various mental deficiencies and neuroses didn't like to strike when it was convenient, preferring to hit him on the weekends when he was left to his own devices.On days like this, Henry had taken to wearing his fifteen year chip from Narcotics Anonymous around his neck like a talisman to ward off evil (which was, in a way, not so far from the truth). He had been so distracted by his mental discomfort when he left the house for a walk that he'd gone right into autopilot, catching a bus and taking it downtown.
Now that he was here, he wasn't doing much but wandering aimlessly through the snowy sidewalks. Idiot, he thought to himself, if you'd pulled this crap in the old neighborhood, you'd have been mugged by now, and serve you right.
He didn't stop his wandering until he found himself bathed in the familiar garish glow of the liquor store's sign. He didn't make a move toward the door, but he didn't walk away either, mind quietly racing. All of that frantic thought was as uselessly as a dog hunting its own tail. He knew that the cravings weren't rational, which made them all the more infuriating. Whatever logical argument his mind constructed, the rejoinder remained the same: it was just one little drink, and the world wouldn't end if he had just one little drink...
It was funny, he thought, fidgeting with his wedding band, after all these years Hazel still had him tied up in knots every Valentine's Day, even when she wasn't there. Somewhere in the dim periphery of his awareness, Henry noticed that it had begun to snow.
