“The reason that I ask, Benjamin, is Because it is very rare for a new medication to begin showing signs of success so quickly. Usually – and you’ve been through this before,” he paused to make eye contact with Ben, who quickly shot his own gaze back to the doctor’s face, giving an awkward smile and a singular head nod. The warrior, who now stood in front of the door, again hissed as it lowered itself into a crouched position. Benjamin could see the glint of it’s eye through one of the holes in the enormous, fiercesome mask, which now motionlessly studied him. “–usually there’s a bit more of a…

When the doctor stood and walked to the door, opening it for Benjamin to leave, it became apparent to Ben that the warrior had dissipated. The doctor then walked back over to the computer cart, in the opposite corner of the room. “Yeah, Tuesday should be fine.” The doctor leaned over the desk, scribbling with his pen, “Ok, here is…another…month-long script. By my calculation, you should be down to your last dose by…oh, today actually.” He tore the piece of paper from his notepad and turned to hand it to Benjamin, with a knowing, cheeky grin. Ben reached for the paper. From somewhere behind him, he could hear a faint…

The pharmacist assistant was frustratedly rifling through the bags on the shelves. From somewhere else in the store, Benjamin could hear another sound. “Argh!–THUMP–AGH!–THUMP–THUMP–THUMP.” The clumper was clearly storming its way, with long, heavy strides, towards the part of the store in which the burly fists were currently clamouring. Though Benjamin wasn’t standing right there to witness it, he could envision the altercation perfectly. “New towels, you need to buy!” taunted one of the fists, while the other let out a hearty eastern-European laugh. Ben heard a loud slap – the two comrades had just high-fived. The clumper had stopped screaming momentarily, though it was clear from the weight of…

The head pharmacist approached the counter, squinting at the computer screen. “I can have that ready in twenty minutes, if you wouldn’t mind shopping or waiting,” she said, barely attempting to make eye contact with Benjamin before scurrying back to the workspace on the opposite side of the shelves. Benjamin pursed his lips. The Thumper stormed up behind him, stomped up and down in a tantrum, kicked a nearby metal shelf and then screamed, before returning to its usual position behind Ben – stomping and screaming in rhythm. Benjamin blinked a few times, and then look up at the girl, who met his gaze from behind the computer. “I have…

It was silent in the office. “Maria,” Ben softly called out, and was met with no response. He turned around and rotated the latch on the entry door, locking it. Not bothering to remove his coat, he made for the doorway that divided the two rooms, into the empty office, and over to his desk. On it was a neatly stacked series of folders, garnished with a pink sticky note. “You’re own your own today. Call with any questions!” It had been four days since Benjamin had challenged himself to write one blog post and one first draft page per day – for 30 consecutive days – and he had…

8:00 pm. Ben had written about 45 uninspired words. He was so buttfucking angry with his wasted self, his useless, braindead, meaningless life. He didn’t want to die. But he surely didn’t want to keep “living” like this. Flaccid. Ineffective. Unworthy. Having performed about an hour and fifteen minutes of useful work throughout the entire day, he found himself exhausted. He looked in the mirror and saw a wretch, unworthy of the sacrifice made by the animals which had died to support his loathsome existence. Benjamin finally surrendered. He would not write, edit and publish two posts tonight. He could not. His mind was scattered and fragmented, as it often…

Mara had not moved by the time he had returned from the other room. He heeded her twisted smile for a moment, but then moved towards his desk, placing his coffee on the corner. Reaching over her head, Ben gripped the back rest of the chair and rotated it away from himself. Mara’s head rotated with the chair in the opposite direction of her body, her grotesquely wide smile and devious gaze never breaking from his face. Ben breathed in again, grabbed his coffee, and taking a swig he looked up at nothing in particular on the wall. Then, in an act of feigned confidence that not even he believed,…