How the Streetlamps Burn

The morning came too soon. The night left early, but it didn’t take with it the angry beasts that now surged and pounded within my skull. The port had brought them, and inadequate rest had made them at home. As I got up the room momentarily pulsed and spun, reminding me of the consequences of overindulgence. Water and more rest would no doubt cure this and chase those beasts inside my head away. Therefore, I took to the bathroom and drank water straight from the faucet until it seemed as though a gallon were within me. I then retired into bed once more for a rest that would revitalize me to the equivalence of a sober man.

It was early afternoon when I woke up. As my eyes focused, I concentrated on what possible improvements had manifested during the duration of my slumber. Indeed, my head was free of the aches and pains that once encumbered it and the bright of day was now tolerable. With that diagnosis, I shook off the last remnants of sleep and made myself presentable. I collected my things and decided to check out a bit early in the process. There was really no need to stay for an hour or two more just to make use of every last cent.

“Ready to check out, sir?” A young and vibrant voice broke the silence as she came into view from behind the counter. I nodded.

“How was your stay with us?”

“Very good.” I handed her the key and she checked it and placed it back in its slot.

“I see that you’ve already paid with us. Have a good day and we thank you for staying here at the Euphin.”

With that I waved farewell and walked outside the door. A part of me had been startled to see that there had been a young female clerk there instead of the tall statuesque monstrosity that I had initially encountered, knowing that I may not ever have the opportunity to view this specimen again left me a bit disappointed.

Free of my debt, I walked down the street, refreshed by the morning light. My friend’s residence was but half a mile down the road and the walk would do me good. As the day slowly progressed, my mind pondered on the direction our new venture would take us. And as I came closer to his residence, I began to ponder if we had also shared the same post-celebratory ailments. But as I progressed up his stairs and announced myself at the door, my curiosity was satisfied. First, there was no answer. I waited, and then I announced myself once more. Again, there was no sound. I pushed on the door very slightly. It responded with a creak as it gave and slowly swung open. And there he was. Though I could not see his face, I knew it was him. He was lying on his back with one arm draped over his chest and the other, crooked, rested by fingertips on the floor. I called to him and he stirred. He moaned.

“Styles, is that you?” His voice was heavy and dry.

“It is.” I walked slowly over to him. He looked slightly pale and dehydrated.

“You look like you’ve seen better days. Too much to drink?”

He forced a smile and nodded.

“I guess you could say that.”

“How you ever got sick after that much is a mystery to me,” I replied.

“I’d usually take your place here on the couch.”

“I, I don’t know Styles, maybe something with the Port. Maybe it didn’t settle right. Oh well, a few glasses of water and half a day’s sleep should bring me back to my rightly self.”

I nodded in agreement. Just what the doctor would prescribe.

At his implied request I entered his kitchen and filled a few glasses with chilled water.

I brought it back and set it down within reach.

“I tell you what,” I said. “I have business a short while out of town. It’ll be a day’s worth of meet and promotion and I’ll come back and check on you. We’ll go out for a bite to eat. Sound good?”

He nodded and smiled more easily this time.

DAY I

Business is never easy after long travels across rugged, relatively uncharted countryside. However, short terrain has always hurried the hands on my watch. This time was no exception. This was the extent of such familiarity, though. Everything else becomes routine. Another strange town. Another strange room. Another strange bed.

The excitement is at the prospect of something more. As even the faces of each new client bleed together into monotonous, obligatory eulogies, there is always a different outcome. Today the outcome was all but generous. It left me to think in frugal measures and to consider greater results through a refined approach. Regardless, I had fulfilled the day’s business obligation and had still a personal one to oblige. With that, I ambled through rugged countryside to Anoch to visit my rejuvenated friend.

Approaching his door, I knocked and waited for a response. Not a sound stirred. Several moments went by and again I knocked. And again not a sound stirred. I then called out and the same replied. Nothing. It was then I grew worried, turned the handle and let the breeze open the door. Before me came a rather unpleasant odor. It smelled of old food and stomach bile. I stepped inside and looked where the couch resided. My friend wasn’t there. The blanket I had draped over him was still upon it, wrinkled and in a state of disorder. One glass of water, I assumed, he drank. The other, partially drunk, was laying on its side with the remainder of its contents soaking into the rug. Not too far from it were traces of vomit. I then proceeded onward to the next place where one would think to look in a situation such as this. The bathroom.

It was there that I found my friend. He was lying in the bathtub, half-slumped outside of the tub, his arms dangled on the tile floor. There, too, was vomit. Settled between his contorted hands and below his grimaced face and disheveled hair. He was moaning something.

“Good god, have you gotten worse?” I was more than concerned.

He looked pale and his breathing was irregular. It was as if he had gone back to the bar to finish off the remainder of their liquor.

“What happened?”

“I, I don’t know,” he replied.

“I stayed in bed and drank the water you placed out for me, just like you said to. When I woke up, I couldn’t hold the contents of my stomach. I’ve been in here ever since.”

“There has got to be something wrong with what you drank. There is no way anyone has ever been sick like this after the quantity that you consumed. I’m going to summon a physician.”

I did just that. As my concern for my friend was more than enough to declare it an emergency, he arrived within the hour.

I waited outside the bathroom for what seemed to be an eternity. The mounted clock above me said one hour, but it felt like longer.

“Well, it isn’t poisoning, it isn’t an allergic reaction, and it isn’t determined as of yet what’s going on. It’s a mystery to me.” The physician handed me something. Medicine I hadn’t heard of before.

“It’s for his stomach, to ease it so he won’t become more dehydrated than he already is. That’s what I’m assuming the pale skin is from. He isn’t retaining his fluids like he should be. So, just make sure he drinks plenty of ‘em and takes a drop of those every couple of hours.” He pointed to the bottle resting in my hand.

“Every couple of hours? How many days, sir,” I asked.

“Give it two days. If there’s no improvement, call me.”

I walked him to the door and thanked him as I opened it to usher him out. I guess I was staying here for a few days. So much for routine.