Enji sat on the couch in the break room at his agency, his hands trembling. You couldn't tell if you were seeing things or not, but it seemed like he was crying. He clenched his fists, using one to hit the table.

"Damn!" He shouted, a tear rolling down his cheek. He grabbed yet another bottle from the cooler on the floor, cracking it open.

This was his fourth drink. His past was haunting him, and his night-terrors are returning. He just hates himself more than anything right now.