a partly good day

A slow smile formed on his face.  He was sitting, gazing at the green marble-esque table infront of him.  He was thinking about things that the music was reminding him of.  “Dust in the wind” was the third or fourth song he learned how to play on the guitar when he was young.  He thought and remembered his teacher, the one that gave him his guitar at the end of senior-year.  It meant a great deal to him and he was now wishing he would make more time to play it.  Thoughts then went to his best friend that particular year.  The time that they locked a teacher in the court yard.  Or the teacher that they gave hell because his first name was Lauren.  The one that went to college with him and worked at the same start up ISP for a time.  The one who’s presence was a given at any function that John had. 

He took a drink of his mountain dew and went back to eating his sandwich.  He was getting goose bumps on the back of his neck.  It happened to him from time to time, so he backed himself into the corner.  The goose bumbs always precede suicidal and homicidal ideation.  He sits in the corner of the booth and waits for the storm to come. 

Someone next to him says “he fucked your wife.”  John shakes his head slightly as if the thought would fall out of his head.  He began to wonder what was happening.  He was just thinking good thoughts about a good time in his life.  Now its dark again. He thought.  He sipped on his mt. Dew a bit more.

A couple arrived in the stall next to him.  The man spoke too loudly and forcefully than John thought he should have.  John looked down his fork and in a movement, picked it up and scooted to the end of the stool.  What the hell am I doing? 

Then he realized his high was wearing off.  He had this experience every time he came down before.  He’d forgotten about it as it had been a while since the last time he partook.  He was adjusting.

The mans wife says “yeah” in a tone that made John want to slit her throat.  God, he thought, please give me the strength to control this better without help.” 

His hands are shaking and his breathing is erratic.  After a deep breath and exhale, John began to gather his things  to leave.  I suppose I have been out for a while.  Its about that time.