[Not sure about this one. Anti-vaxxers call the vaccinated sheep, so don't think they thought this one through. Got to get my mind away from Covid and into something that I can use creatively.]
Willy stepped out from the AA meeting feeling like he was wading through flood waters. The muscles in his legs dragged against the tide of his sobriety. He thought about turning around and speaking to Jenny, his sponsor, but knew exactly how the conversation would go. He felt like he was drowning in all the affirmations. Nothing was going to relieve him of his need to drink.
To free himself, he walked across town to his old stomping grounds.
The Bridge Hotel stood nowhere near a bridge. Over one hundred years ago, the river was rerouted. The old bridge was dismantled, but the pub remained.
Willy stood at the threshold, the smell of beer thick like smoke. He wanted to feel the heat inside of him, the burning at the back of the throat from a shot of whiskey.
The clang of bottles being emptied into the bins out back jolted him from his temptations.
The bins were overflowing with an array of bottles. He took one out and felt the heft.
He spun it on the ground just as they had as kids behind the sheds at school.
Willy wheeled the bin across town. He thought of the men and women on the ISS and how insignificant his life must look like from space.
Out the front of the church hall where the AA meetings take place, Willy laid out the bottles on the ground.
The sky was becoming visible when Willy stood back happy with what he'd created. Along the sidewalk about the front of St Patrick's Church, he had written the most powerful sentence he could think of. One that he hoped the astronauts and AA members alike will read and take note.
"I'M STILL HERE"