Just one more drink. That’s what Clayton kept telling himself as he took shot after shot. Just one more, then I’ll go home.Â
Today was one of his bad days. He wasn’t sure what had set him off, just that when he woke up this morning he was already dreading the day. His foul mood seemed to only attract more reason to be down. His car decided to stall, the Dean of his school decided to give him Hell for god-knows-what, and--
“Shit!” He stood up suddenly as his whiskey spilled across the front of his pants. “Shit, shit, shit.” He shook off the excess that had ended up on his hands, the bar stool he was sitting on had fallen to the floor. Clay breathed heavily as he slipped out of his thoughts and into the present. Glancing around, he noticed the rest of the bar eyeing him. He’d caused a goddamn scene.
Cursing, he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up. He splashed some water on his face as he examined himself in the mirror. Clayton Sandford you are a fucking mess.Â
He groaned as a knock sounded from outside the door, “Occupied!”
