It's 12:03 AM. I work at 5. I can't sleep and my coffee has grown cold. My mind drifts to where you are and what you're doing. I need another shot. Of coffee or whiskey, I don't know. My head throbs and my heart aches. I worry about you. You get angry when I voice it. I can't help that I care. Where's that shot? I search though the cupboards for that one bottle. Where the fuck are you?