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“Thirty-eight”

A man sits soporifically in his favourite chair. Intently, yet drowsily, he watches his favorite baseball team on his boastfully large television. This societally praised consumeristic success has brought him contentment and satisfaction ever since his adult memory serves him. Though, today, it does not. On this evening, all he can feel is, anger.

He tries to feel excitement. Nothing, as if he was deaf and could not smell. He turns his thoughts to happy times. Thinking of rejoicing and celebrations, his mouth refuses to smile. As a last resort he takes an attempt at sadness and depression. His eyes won’t even water, they make no attempt to cry.

He stands. Thoughtfully, he paces. He shuts off the television and lets the remote fall to the floor without notice or a glance downward of acknowledgement. Subconsciously, the man makes his way over to his fully stocked, self-built bar. With his mind still fully entrenched in this new-found ire, his hand grasps a glistening crystal glass. He opens the freezer, removes two perfectly formed ice cubes and places them at the bottom of the glass. While this is occurring, his eyes have been monitoring his actions without fully relaying their observations.

His mind reconnects with himself as he holds his ostentatious decanter tilted above his glass. At this point, he stops himself. The liquid is not yet flowing, though it flutters near the lip. This liquid gold is referred to as the good stuff in this man’s circles. This pause was conscious, a moment to what he previously knew as rational thought.

What is he doing? Drinking this delicacy, normally reserved for special occasions.

Why?

This unexplained anger is causing him to act irrationally. It needs to stop.

The next thought which he encountered is a very teenage thought to be confronted with. A powerfully poisonous and overwhelming, though teenage, thought. Apathy. His thought was simple, familiar, and direct. I do not care.

He poured not one, nor two, but, by his count, nearly four ounces of his prized fluid. He added a third ice cube. He felt that evened out the contents of his glass.

Upon his very first sip, he remembered something that he dearly missed. How could he have forgotten this?

Slowly, he sipped. Quickly, everything returned to him. That which he cannot believe he has forgotten.