The man wondered the streets aimlessly, unaware of where he went or if it would get him in any trouble. He hadn't been drunk for months, and it was a bad thing. He was too happy, too content, and everyone knew it. He was becoming a failure.
Another block passed under his hurriedly-shod feet, and he remembered back to a few months ago, back to when he had hit bottom. Things were better then. More simple. The drunken conversations spoken into pools of vomit dutifully deposited in the parking lots of steaming pubs, they brought a dry, sickening consistency to the hot, much too bright mornings when he drug himself into the chaotic, unsympathetic fluorescents of his workplace. [...]
