The autumn leaves drift by my window. You betcha. Be careful out there. They are slippery when wet. Welcome to a beautiful Sunday and what can be better than a satisfying eight sentences to whet your appetite.
I continue with my fallen hero in The Catch. Once a star quarterback at Northwestern University, now a lawyer who fears he’s about to lose his job. When last seen, the call girl slammed the door leaving him alone on New Years Day.
excerpt in eight:
The bathroom cabinet contained sleeping pills; an easy way out with a glass of vodka to wash them down; and peace. Shaking hands, a gift from the hellish hangover, and Tom fumbled opening the bottle of pills. Tiny clicks as small capsules cascaded over the counter onto the floor. Tom arranged the capsules in a row then automatically rearranged them into a formation; the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. They looked like a football formation made of pills and he pictured the play to come next. First a scramble for position he–the quarterback—called for; a winning strategy ended in another touchdown.
One quick motion and the capsules were flushed, a part of sewage in the great city of Chicago. As for me, Tom straightened, there’s nowhere to go but up.
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