An unassuming man sits alone at a table in an otherwise nondescript kitchen.
White appliances, flowered wallpaper, cheap knock-off prints of spices and
farm animals. Hands clasped behind his bowed head, staring down at the table
as if it were staring back, waiting to see who blinks first. The radio plays
quietly in the background. Mississippi Queen by Mountain. The classic rock
station plays it five times a day. He’s heard it twice already from this
position without having moved even once. He sighs heavily, unaware that he
is even breathing. He has thoughts racing around his head, but hes stopped
listening. For now. It’s nothing new. This is only temporary relief. One day
he thinks it will be permanent. Which is stronger? The will to give in or
the will to fight on? He is pretty sure he’ll be staring down at the gun
again tomorrow. Alone. Wondering if today is the day the will to give in is
stronger.
 
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