Disclaimer: All belongs to Mr. Shore
.
He played with vicodin on his desk. Sure, he could stop.
Inside him, the answer was different. Through his eyes, he saw the life which renounced for that addiction.
He closed them and thought about the patient. He was the doctor. He assumed his role.
Took vicodin without water, hurried, afraid to change his mind.
Tomorrow, he would think on this nonsense.
He looked back to see who he could have been without this decision.
But it was as if Ghost of Future Asylum pays him a visit.
"Bowshit"
He left, clutching the bottle in his pocket. Reaffirming the decision of the day.