He tossed
and turned till his wife told him to sleep downstairs. The rest of the night he
spent on the couch, the lights switched off, the television tuned to the comedy
channel, although he only caught fragments; it was difficult to concentrate on
the screen. Too many things were running around in his head, disjointed images
jostling for attention before shooting off on absurd tangents. Nothing made
sense, after a while the scenes began to overlap, there was so much going on,
too much information, all of it punctuated by the incongruous mirth of a laugh
track.
His eyelids were closing. He fumbled for the
button on the remote. It was time to get ready.
To read the complete story, go to the McStorytellers site.
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