David had no idea how much time had passed, how many tears he had left, or even why he bothered to live on this goddamned planet.
Live. Live again. Was this a new life? Would life always be like this?
A knock at the door.
“Occupied,” David choked out.
“Hey man, what’re you doin’ in there?” the gas station attendant asked, nothing but a voice so far as David was concerned.
“I don’t know,” David said. “I just don’t know.”
“You gotta get outta there.” The attendant figured the guy was on drugs. He didn’t say that out loud, of course, because the last thing you want to do to an unstable drug addict is make them think about themselves, or the things that they’ve done. “You want to buy something before you go?”
“I don’t have any money. This has been…” He started to say something more, but stopped. How could he even describe what he was going through?
“Get outta there now, or I call the cops.”
David obliged, skin crawling. He kept wanting to pick at the bugs on his flesh, but he knew there weren’t any bugs. He just had to get used to the fact of being alive, again.
He didn’t look the attendant in the eyes. He couldn’t bear it.
His feet took him away from the ugly gas station. His fingers ran through his short brown hair. More hours fell away from him, slipping from his grasp, leaving before he even realized they’d come.
Shambling through the streets, he saw things he couldn’t explain: shattered glass, flashing sirens, the smell of garbage coming from who knows where. Surely these things had rational explanations, but David couldn’t for the life of him connect the dots. Cause-and-effect seemed foreign.
He found an ant hill. Watched it for a long time. The insects were tiny, comprehensible. He liked that.
Eventually, in the pitch black of night, with still a bit of time before the Sun decided to rise, he realized he had to go to the hospital.
He shuffled in that direction.