Richie

Richie.

“Try it again and again.” The male voice from the tv spoke loudly but to Richie it felt like he was being spoken to.

He loosened his tie, copying the gestures of the young magician on the screen and began mimicking the man’s actions.

A few minutes went past, and after a while of copying the magician’s actions Richie decided to stop. It was no longer fun to him; in fact nothing felt like fun anymore.

The world felt like it was spinning in circles, and to Richie everything was in a flux. He couldn’t say exactly what stand his life held right now or what its meaning was but knew he was simply going with the flow that came.

Pressing the bottle of liquor to his lips, Richie took a big gulp and winced when the fiery liquid burned its way from the back of his throat down to his chest.

He loved the feeling though, but the aftermath was what he disliked.

He hated how it usually made him feel crappy and how his fingers shook like that of an epileptic person whenever he took it excessive