Every morning for the past...
Illustration
Every morning for the past eight years, Paul and David had gotten together for coffee on Wednesday mornings at 7 a.m. Sometimes they had breakfast, sometimes they brought friends along, sometimes they talked business, sometimes not, but they both enjoyed their little coffee ritual.
Normally both Paul and David were very punctual. But little by little, Paul noticed that David was running later and later. First five, then 10 and then 15 minutes late. Paul was getting annoyed, so one day he asked his friend what was going on. Why was he late every week?
At first David brushed the issue aside, "No reason, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But Paul could tell something was wrong. David didn't look well. His eyes were bloodshot with large purple circles underneath. He was more irritable than he used to be and he seemed to have a hangover almost every week. Paul pressed him: "Are you having trouble sleeping? Are you sick or something?" After some more hedging and halfhearted explanations, David finally admitted, "I think maybe I'm drinking too much, Paul. I don't know if I can stop anymore. I find myself sitting in my apartment watching television, drinking a soda and thinking, 'No, No, I don't want a drink tonight.' But even though I don't want to take that drink, I do it anyway. I can't stop. I just can't do what I want to do anymore."
--Parlette
Normally both Paul and David were very punctual. But little by little, Paul noticed that David was running later and later. First five, then 10 and then 15 minutes late. Paul was getting annoyed, so one day he asked his friend what was going on. Why was he late every week?
At first David brushed the issue aside, "No reason, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But Paul could tell something was wrong. David didn't look well. His eyes were bloodshot with large purple circles underneath. He was more irritable than he used to be and he seemed to have a hangover almost every week. Paul pressed him: "Are you having trouble sleeping? Are you sick or something?" After some more hedging and halfhearted explanations, David finally admitted, "I think maybe I'm drinking too much, Paul. I don't know if I can stop anymore. I find myself sitting in my apartment watching television, drinking a soda and thinking, 'No, No, I don't want a drink tonight.' But even though I don't want to take that drink, I do it anyway. I can't stop. I just can't do what I want to do anymore."
--Parlette
