I Don’t Want You To Die

The smell of alcohol drifted into my office. I must have missed the bell. I could hear the ramblings of a deep voice roll through the corridor. It was Bronsen. I stood up from my chair and readied myself for the scene. I never knew when he would come visit, as he wasn’t an official client, but he would pop in once or twice a week like he had been doing for the past eight months. I could hear Pam in her calm gram voice softly talking with him.

I turned the corner to see Bronsen slumped over Pam’s desk. The booze seeped through his pores, and wafted through the air. His grey hair shot in…