#can'tcope

The taste of bacon butty mixed with the heat of the cigarette was starting to bring him out of the hangover. Drinking meant he didn’t have to think anymore. Not thinking helped make the headache die away. Of course, it only came back with a vengeance the next morning, talk about borrowing time from your future self. Still, the dog still enjoyed his company. Little Rose was the happiest out of them all, bounding across the garden, exploring flowers she had taken a sniff at hundreds of times by now. Everything always seemed new and exciting to her. Garrett caught himself smiling like an idiot as he thought about it.

He removed the cigarette from his lips, thumb flicking the filter to dispose of the collection of fag ash on the tip. It soon fizzled out to a used stump, added to the pile in the disused plant pot. The elementalist groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes and jabbing a thumb to the muscles of his left arm. A new bruise was starting to become pronounce; at least he didn’t have a black eye again. A quick flick of his arms added enough momentum to help bring him to his feet, bare footsteps guiding him back to the kitchen door. The two women barely glanced towards him as he walked into the wall of tension and room elephants. He couldn’t do this anymore, the headache starting to cover his mind, like a shadow moving over his scalp. A rasped cough into his hand wasn’t the introduction he was hoping to have, but beggars can’t be choosers sometimes.

really