Rick

A fog was gathering outside, and it was approaching one in the morning. He never stayed up late, usually spending his entire life at the computer, but this time he simply disappeared. It was impossible to reach him because his phone was turned off. It was hard to imagine how much stress you'd spent that evening. But it seemed the anxious wait was finally broken by the uncertain, awkward sound of a key in the lock. Time stood still, but only until Rick peeked out from behind the front door like a wet kitten. He knew what awaited him, and guilt was written all over his face. He walked into the house and closed the door behind him, not taking his eyes off the floor. He reeked of alcohol.