#214 Breathing in a Different World

by Andrew Shin

Fuck, that’s glass. I got up from bed shivering. The nearly finished bottle of Jack Daniel’s was on the floor without a cap. At least I didn’t knock it over. I carefully walked around the mirror and opened the door . . . I crept in the dark towards the bathroom so as to not wake up the others. Bad enough I played that screaming music, loud as hell, at three in the morning, I thought.

I flicked on the light and went to the sink. Inspecting the bottom of my fist, I saw the shards were just big enough to pull out with my nails; a few specks of blood appeared. Afterwards, I washed my hands, put on a Band-Aid, and headed back to my room.

I began searching for the bottle cap. The stench lingering in the room only worsened the nausea I felt, and my eyes winced from the pieces of glass glimmering in the light as I stepped over them. I’ll clean it up tomorrow . . .

While searching for the top, I noticed my e-mail account was open on my laptop. Then, I remembered sending an e-mail earlier. I sat on my bed and clicked for my “Sent” mail. Oh, god, I repulsively thought.

I had promised myself, after printing out 23 pages of my unanswered e-mails, that I would never write to him again, but here was another one—the worst of them all.

Why do I still write to him?

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