Every Day, The Same

Morris allowed himself a moment to relax, to let the warmth of his flushed face subside to the coolness of indifference as the blood flowed back to where it had originated. He wiped the cocktail of Jameson and coke from his eyes, trying in vain to sequester what little dignity he had left. He had performed similar rituals every time his mood had gotten the best of him.

He sat back in his chair, and embraced the realization that they were all right to leave.