Standing in front of the steam-fogged bathroom mirror, I see only the barest outline of myself. My eyes look haunted, empty.  My head is gleaming, almost polished; this is the first time in my life I’ve ever used shavepaste everywhere.  Even my eyebrows are gone.  

My face is slack and expressionless.  What expression known to man could possibly convey this feeling adequately?  There’s nothing left for me now.  Nothing, that is, except for the revolver waiting patiently beneath my pillow.

I don’t remember where I got it, or when, but the gleaming burnished steel is the only thing that my mind is able to focus on anymore.  It’s my only friend, you see, offering up the only solution left to me.

I sit on my knees atop the bed, pulling the revolver out from under the pillow.  Carefully, I slide each of the rounds into their homes.  Reverently, I click the cylinder into place.  Shaking, I raise the pistol to my brow.  So this is how everything ends.

No, can’t do it this way, the bullet might bounce off of my skull; or worse, barely penetrate and leave me a vegetable for the rest of my life.  Can’t have that, now can we?  I’ve got to do this right.  In my mouth.

I’m not shaking anymore as I bring the barrel up to my face.  The yawning black length of the bore seems to go on for eternity, or at least until I press it against my lips.  The iron sight clacks against my teeth.  I relax, unclench them, and let the cool steel slide between my lips.

My thumb cocks back the hammer, the cylinder turns with a click.  I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.

With a twitch of my finger, the hammer is falling in slow motion; the sound of thunder, a burning impact, and then black…

And the screaming begins anew.

My boss told me I needed a vacation yesterday.  He thinks I am stressed out.  I am a hardshell teleoperator; I move heavy equipment from the comfort of an office desk via a virtual reality interface.  What’s to be stressed about?  All the same, I think that’s a good idea.

So after the screaming subsides and I have washed the stink of my sweat from my body, I authorize my commlink virtual assistant to search for various things that might interest me in a vacation spot, while I contact my boss on his commlink to let him know I am taking next week off.

May’s still sleeping downstairs.  Earplugs keep her nights restful.  No resentment building here on my part at all.  For a moment, I almost make plans for two.  But maybe I should take this vacation just as alone as she’s begun to make me feel.  There’s been a slight edge of irritation with me in her voice when she speaks to me as of late.

I eat breakfast in silence, dress myself, and step out the front door.  Today’s a new day, and I am going to talk to Dr. Mulkavey and see if I can find a way to get this booger out of my head and get on with my life.