[The first thing Chris wanted to do was hit something. Finally succeeding at something, relaxing, and then having it ripped away from him. The bottle of bourbon flew across the room, landing somewhere near the opposite wall with a clunk. And then, Chris feels mildly better, but still angry. Irritated. Upset. And embarrassed.]
Actually, I am dead. So. Thanks for that reminder.
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Actually, I am dead. So. Thanks for that reminder.
[Got you there Crane.]