Ringy-dingy-dong at the door. I am defeated. On my legs: a cat curled up. It’s too warm, but I won’t make her get up. I certainly won’t get up. Maybe if lie here long enough it will all go away.
For months I sat around my parents house, newly sober, with anxiety I could feel in my gut, having visions, visions of the vaporwave post-apocalypse we have begun. That’s right, Jackson — the apocalypse already happened. The rapture took only folks from far away lands you’ve never heard of, folks who believe…
The T.V. screen, mounted above the fire place, played a short, looped animation featuring an…