Nachton Times - Kyle's office

Kyle sat in his undeserving office and held onto his desk for his dear life. The shakes were driving him crazy, literally. He felt the beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his face as he waited for this round of aches and cravings to pass.

'God, I should take up smoking or something,' he muttered thru gritted teeth. One addiction for another, smart.

He felt the tremors start to fade as he eased slowly out of this painful wave. Kyle was hanging onto the corner of his desk, digging his nails into the minimalist steel design. He took a deep breath and let go and felt a sudden urge to vomit.

He jumped up from his desk and ran for the nearest bathroom, nearly knocking over some co-workers who wordlessly watched him. He barely made it into the bathroom when last night and this morning's breakfast came surging up. It spilled over and splattered onto the floor and his shoes.

'Fuck,' he muttered. Being sober wasn't worth this pain, he thought to himself. Then mentally smacked the drunk in him and straightened up. Kyle waited a few minutes but it seemed he weathered the tremors and nausea this time with only a little embarassment.

Walking out, he passed another co-worker who didnt give him a second glance. Kyle flushed, embarassed that the entire office knew he was trying to dry out. He looked up into the bathroom mirror and was shocked to see his face.

Gaunt eyes, pale green skin and sweat stained hair and collar. Jesus H. Christ he was a mess. He had showered twice already today and gone thru his spare suit. It was time to pound the pavement a little, stop by the dry cleaners and buy a new suit for the day.

Kyle went back into his office to fetch his jacket to hide the sweat stains and exited quietly off the newsroom floor, to the elevator banks. The Nachton Times incorporated the top 15 floors of one of the largest high rises in the city.

The elevator bank had 8 separate elevator cars constantly moving. Kyle walked down the long hallway to them and ran into his editor/surrogate father, Grant Thorps.

The look in Grant's eyes when he saw Kyle was enough to make him turn away embarassed. 'I know, I know. I'm going to change now.'

'Kyle...what the hell?'

Kyle looked back at Grant and showed him his trembling hands.

Grant's eyes went up in surprise. 'How long?'

'About 3 days.'

'Christ boy, are you going cold turkey? Are you trying to kill yerself,' he said in his east coast accent.

Kyle at 6'2 towered over Thorps' 5'8 stature. Still the man knew how to make him feel 8 again. Secretly, he thanked him for it.

'Just trying to do the right thing, Grant.'

Thorps placed a meaty hand on Kyle's shoulder. 'You should check yourself in, Kyle. Going cold turkey is...I can't even imagine.'

He shook his head, 'I can't do that. I can't be locked up. I gotta do this my way.'

With a sigh, Grant passed Kyle and patted him on the back. 'At least you're trying, boy-o. Yer pa would be proud.' Thorps made his way back into the Time's offices with a grim smile.

Kyle pressed the down button and again caught his reflection in the glassy marble walls. He was having a hard time remembering if the right thing was worth it.

((Kyle out))