Chapter 2: Rough Night, Huh?
Mitch woke up on the cold metal floor with a groan. He didn't want to open his eyes, because he knew the blinding red lights we waiting for him. He shook off the sleep and pulled himself up, ignoring the headache that felt like a jackhammer.
Booze bottles were scattered around him, and so were his keepsakes from back home.
"There's no way I could have been able to dig up this old junk if I wasn't hammered," he sighed.
His eyes scanned around the floor. Gathering the items from his past, Mitch picked up his journal with the worn brown leather binding and the water-stained pages. He flipped through it, and read a couple of segments. He relived his start of college, his pursuit of engineering. He also read when he first met his wife. Mitch remembered seeing the back of her head in class, the dark curls tucked under her maroon cap. He remembered her smile, her laugh, the way she used to twist her hair into a messy bun when she was thinking.He loved her at first sight. But the argument they had, something that became so big but started so small. All our fighting, he thought, me leaving, and getting stuck here, all 'cause of a damn dog.
As he started to crack open the book an envelope slipped down to the ground. His name was scribbled on the front with his wife's infamously messy handwriting. Mitch grabbed it quickly and started to tear it open when he was interrupted.
"Rough night, huh?" said a voice behind him.
Mitch jumped up and stumbled into the chair behind him. Standing in front of him was the figure of his wife.
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