Thursday, September 24, 2015

65. Flirting with Disaster
“Week fifteen - my baby is starting to grow hair,” Mick told me. She also told me she had stopped by her brother’s house to tell him. Her brother had been her drinking buddy and dealer.  I asked her if she thought visiting him was a good idea.
She told me she felt tempted but didn’t drink.  She noticed the worried look on my face.  “Have you heard the expression ‘flirting with disaster’?” I asked.  “People flirt with disaster for the adrenaline rush, the thrill of being near the cliff. They love the euphoric recall – remembering the first time they met their new chemical love. That rush, that recall? It’s why some recovering addicts try to just sell drugs, why people revisit the scene of their crimes, why happily married people look for old flames online. Once you start flirting with disaster, it’s hard to stop.” 
“Won’t do it again,” she said.  Her smile made me wonder.

Today I won’t flirt with disaster.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

No comments:

Post a Comment