Sneaking out to drink sounded like a good idea at the time, once the waves of anxiety in the storm of depression kept crashing down on you, relentless in their attack on your mind. What did that song say, "the body bends until it breaks..?" The same could be said of the mind.

There was a hole-in-the-wall bar in town, not too far. Almost everyone there was too inebriated to notice a few shots missing. At first, you took only two. Two became six... and six became... a lot more.

You probably had taken your... tenth shot, when you felt a hand close over your wrist, the minute you snuck back outside. A tall young man stared down at you, his hazel eyes fixated on yours, from under a wide brimmed cowboy hat.

A slow, lazy grin spread across his grin. Not the sinister kind... almost joking. "Stealin' shots, are we?" As teasing as he appeared, there was a flash of genuine concern once he laid eyes on you.