The Cog that Spins the Wheel - 8

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Chapter 8 - Not All Who Are Lost, Wander

I float in the darkness. My brain spins. Another night, another empty bottle of whiskey. Another slide through zero gravity. My stumps ache. I slap at them and the motion sends me cartwheeling, I think. I can’t tell without light and I don’t care enough to turn them on. I’ll either crash into a wall or I won’t. Schrödinger’s drunk. Only the direct observation of the crashing or not crashing will resolve this.

“Life’s a blessing.” I slur th...