» these photographs
It was early evening, rearing seven, when Jack fumbled for the keys to his home. A day that had started out as mundane and exceedingly average as any other day had, within seconds, taken the nose-dive of nose-dives, leaving the middle-aged man shaken and more than a little concerned for his welfare. It wasn't that he was put in any danger, as such; rather he was systematically thrown into bizarre and altogether discerning situations that defied all sense of logic.
Rubbing a hand against his face, Jack threw his keys at the table and pulled the small, slightly bent Foto from his front pocket, scrutinizing it curiously. It seemed normal enough, he supposed, other than being blurred beyond all recognition and slightly weathered. Still, it seemed an odd gift to receive, really -- but exceptionally less odd than the shop itself which was more comforting than it should have been. Worrying his lip between his teeth, Jack placed the Foto atop the fireplace and moved towards the fridge, his lip twitching wryly as that all-too-familiar leaden feeling settled into his chest reminding him that no, alcohol shouldn't be his solution for everything.
It was, but it shouldn't be.
Jack settled himself down in front of the fireplace, curling his legs comfortably under his knees before poising a shot glass against his thigh. He began throwing back shots as if it were routine, every so often leaning his head back and closing his eyes or hissing against the burn of the vodka. It was uncertain when the shot glass had rolled from his hand or when the transition of tipsy to drunk and being able to talk and not being able to talk had occurred, but the prior perturbed Jack moreso than the latter. Standing, the inebriated man stumbled his way to grab another shot glass, unconcerned by the wavering room. It was a difficult task, walking to the fridge, his vision already exceptionally foggy and his balance severely compromised and before he could even comprehend the past thirty seconds he was staring at pale brown shag carpet.
Jack mumbled incoherently into the ground and rolled his head to the side.
It was just another night.
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