15. Wasted
“You OK?” Blondie asked, seeing my ‘kicked in the stomach’
expression.
I held up my smartphone. “There’s probably a dozen things
twice as useful as this we’ll never know about because the idea for them
drowned in an alcoholic’s brain,” I said.
“The knowledge went up in smoke, or was smothered by an overdose, maybe
got lost to a stroke brought on by coke.”
“Bothers you, the waste of talent,” my wife said.
“I think about the world’s problems and wonder how many of
them could have been solved if not for some creative person’s addiction.”
Today I won’t drown, burn, or otherwise destroy
whatever talents I might have.
Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the
characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.
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