Daniel was an unhappy man. It stood to reason. He had a job he hated. An apartment he hate. A cat he hated. A car he hated. Daniel hated everything about his life.
It hadn't always been this way. There was a time that Daniel had passion. He fervently believed in what hd did at work, day after day, fumbling through the forms, bringing joy to those he stamped "approved" and charity to those he stamped "declined". Daniel worked at the Department office as a senior advisor for The Project.
Daniel's love affir with Smirnoff began seven years ago. He got a familiar phone call, two words, "she's here", and then a soft click. Daniel sat down, put his head into his hands and sobbed. His shoulders shook with the force of his angst. Confusion swirled in his head, black spots danced before his eyes, his temple throbbed. "She's here", he kept repeating, trying the words out with his tongue, twisting them around until they no longer made sense, sounding instead like a phrase uttered by one not quite familiar with the English language. "She's here". It could have meant anything, and yet only one thing.
It's a girl. Daniel fumbled on the coffee table for his keys, and grabbing his wallet he shoved it roughly into his back pocket. He turned off the loight, closed the door behind him, locked the deadbolt, and headed out into the street. Daniel had been drunk before. This wasn't the first time he had tried to escape the thought of a girl by drinking himself stupid.
Daniel drank until he ran out of cash. He considered getting more out of the machine, but when he slid off the bar stool, unsteadily, the black spots returned. He turned and staggered out of the building.
Daniel didn't remember getting home that night, he just rememberd the mother of a hangover he had the next morning. His head ached and roof of his mouth was fuzzy and thick. Daniel groaned. Then he remember the phone call. "She's here". Shit.