9/15/73

Thinking it would be a kindly gesture to take a recent widower out for a few drinks, my co-workers David and Henley insisted we go to Walkers after the store closed. We talked sporadically and in bursts about anything but the fact that my wife was dead. A forced joviality pervaded the evening and no doubt contributed- along with the 5 shots of j.d.- to my vomiting the minute I got home. I dreamed of walking by the lake that was near my childhood home, and with each lap tying another stone to my neck. When I could barely crawl from the weight of the rocks, I made my way into the water.