Snippet #1586352

Chuck's frail chest puffed up with lungs full of stale, rehab center oxygen. He cracked his neck a few times and bounced in place, as if he were about to enter the ring of a boxing match. Yet, this would be far more of a challenge than any physical fight.

Swinging the door open slowly with his trembling hands, Chuck dragged his legs to the closest available seat to the door. His eyes stayed fixated on his wobbling knees as he sat down, his shoulders slumping forward and his spine caving into himself. His fingers pushed his lengthy hair behind his ear. His teeth chattered.

Fucking chill out, man! Chuck scolded himself internally. Why did he have to be such a worrywart?