Henry sighed and lit a cigarette. Well he'd done it again. So much for New Year's resolutions.
Some things a man just can't change. Like last year, when he'd resolved to quit smoking. That resulted in uncontrolled rages that lasted for hours. Most of his furniture was destroyed during that two weeks of hell. Then the cops showed up at his door and issued a warning about disturbing the peace. It didn't take Henry long to realize it was in his best interest to break his New Year's resolution. He went back to smoking and things had calmed down.
The year before that his resolution was to start going to bed and waking up at a normal time. That had been a complete disaster. For six months he had dragged himself through the days feeling grainy eyed and unable to think clearly. He became an emotional basket case and alternately cried or shouted at the drop of a hat. His co-workers visibly cringed every time he came near. The boss called Henry into his office for a "talk" which was really a euphemism for warning. He was told to get himself together or seek employment elsewhere so he broke his resolution and went back to sleeping days. Things improved in less than a week.
Now here he was trying to quit again and it just wasn't working out like he'd planned. He couldn't seem to stop himself. The urge was always there, sometimes resting way down deep where he could pretend it wasn't there. At other times, the urge would boil up to the surface and he would give in again.
He put out his smoke in the cheap ashtray that sat on the rickety nightstand and looked over at the dead woman lying on the lumpy motel bed. The sheets had gotten tangled around her legs during the struggle. Henry smiled at the memory. He felt a little guilty about breaking his New Year's resolution, but it was worth it.
Some things a man just can't change. Like last year, when he'd resolved to quit smoking. That resulted in uncontrolled rages that lasted for hours. Most of his furniture was destroyed during that two weeks of hell. Then the cops showed up at his door and issued a warning about disturbing the peace. It didn't take Henry long to realize it was in his best interest to break his New Year's resolution. He went back to smoking and things had calmed down.
The year before that his resolution was to start going to bed and waking up at a normal time. That had been a complete disaster. For six months he had dragged himself through the days feeling grainy eyed and unable to think clearly. He became an emotional basket case and alternately cried or shouted at the drop of a hat. His co-workers visibly cringed every time he came near. The boss called Henry into his office for a "talk" which was really a euphemism for warning. He was told to get himself together or seek employment elsewhere so he broke his resolution and went back to sleeping days. Things improved in less than a week.
Now here he was trying to quit again and it just wasn't working out like he'd planned. He couldn't seem to stop himself. The urge was always there, sometimes resting way down deep where he could pretend it wasn't there. At other times, the urge would boil up to the surface and he would give in again.
He put out his smoke in the cheap ashtray that sat on the rickety nightstand and looked over at the dead woman lying on the lumpy motel bed. The sheets had gotten tangled around her legs during the struggle. Henry smiled at the memory. He felt a little guilty about breaking his New Year's resolution, but it was worth it.