It’s 2 in the afternoon. It might as well be eleven at night. I’m at work, reading the same sentence over and over again. It’s not computing. Nothing is computing.

I can’t leave. My car is at the dealership being fixed. Some chop shop stole my right passenger side mirror. Just the glass. Not the device. It cost 300 dollars to replace.

I tried to eat lunch. I wasn’t successful. Instead, I sat and stared at a giant bowl of penne. My entire body sweat just looking at it.

Right now there’s only two things that will make me feel better. Replenishing my body with the alcohol I drank last night or Ambien. I don’t have either.

All I have is Puppy Cam. Six puppies asleep in one bed.

I can’t take my eyes off of them.

Their entire bodies twitch when they dream.

I want to be in a cage.

I want to run around and shit in the corner and sleep all day.

I want to be a puppy.

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