everything falls apart 48

I had mosquito bites on my arms and grass-stains on my shirt, and I wondered how long I'd been lying there with my dick hanging out. All that notwithstanding, I felt great. The sleep deprivation had been clouding my thought processes, making me irritable, paranoid, maybe even delusional. But now things were back in perspective. The spousal differences were nothing earth-shattering. They were so vague I didn't even understand what they were, exactly, but everyone has stupid fights once in awhile. It doesn't mean anything. And the torture I was witnessing on my job... I just needed a little time to adjust to that. I’m squeamish, by nature. Don't like the sight of blood. But the torture-ees were bad folk. They were killers. Worse than that, they were religious psychotics. How are you supposed to deal with people who don’t listen to reason?

I reached the lobby of my building. I had been gone for 14 hours. Where was I going to say I'd been, exactly? A few ideas floated around, but now that I was determined to try harder for peace, it would have to be something good. A guy by the reception desk was selling flowers, so I bought one.

I took the elevator up to my flat. What would it be? I stopped off at the office to catch up on work? Why didn't I call?

I opened my door and shut it gently behind me. I took off my shoes so as not to track dirt. I heard talking in one of the back rooms. Two different frequencies. It was company.