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Weekly Contest #253
The chipped mirror reflected back speckles of anxieties. Beads of sweat formed on Milo's forehead, but it wasn’t alcohol beads. He blinked, the dancing specks remained, multiplying even in the harsh glare of the mirror's lightbulb frame. Not this again, he thought, rubbing his eyes. 'I need a drink,' he opened the mini fridge. 'No, no, no, what's wrong with you, you simple-minded creature? My pills, I need my pills.' "Where the hell are my pills, Lennie?" Lenny's eyebrows rose as he set aside the book he was reading: The Hitchhiker’s Guide ...
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