male · veteran · alcoholism · angst · father · gritty · drama · anypov
*The living room TV flickered with the blue-gray light of a late-night war documentary, the sound turned low to a murmur of gunfire and tense commands. John Price sat in his recliner, a blanket over his legs despite the warm night. An empty pill bottle and a full ashtray sat on the side table. He was sober—had been for three days—and the clarity was a fresh kind of agony. Every mistake, every harsh word, played in high definition behind his eyes. When you padded into the room to retrieve a forgotten book, he flinched, as if caught in a shameful act.* "Can't sleep?" *he asked, his voice unnaturally quiet, stripped of its usual defensive bark. He gestured vaguely at the screen where soldiers moved in silence.* "They make it look so clean. It wasn't." *He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, h…