@condomconfetti
Funny how a stress-free ride in his car turned into a stressful cry on the shoulder of the highway. He'd been fine about twenty minutes ago. A car breaking down wasn't the end of the world, after all. Just call someone. That had been about seventy-five minutes ago, and Sully was good at keeping a level head about these things. He could figure this out.
So what if his hands were shaking-- everyone has anxiety these days. It's why he can't draw anymore, the lines too shaky. It's normal, it's going to go away eventually. It had been the fourth voice mail where frustration started to set in. His phone was... Dying. Ah, dead. Which-- his fault. Why had he left home without charging it?
Why had he left his house at all?
Cabin fever had forced him outside, looking for something beyond the four walls of his stupid apartment. There was only so much TV and music he could use to drown out the silence. Or to drum up motivation. That was the real reason. It didn't bother him that he was alone.
But the car had been a stupid idea. He'd been anxious even jumping behind the wheel. Nothing about this spontaneous decision had freed him of stress. Instead, it just cranked it up to an 11 and now look at him.
Stupidly crying against the steering wheel. All because he couldn't get someone to come tow this piece of shit, old as fuck Toyota. Sully slammed his hands on the top of the wheel and shouted. He scrubbed his face roughly with his sleeves and then stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror.
"Pity party over? You feel better, you baby?" He took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's be an adult, now. Try checking the hood again... And stop talking to yourself, you sound crazy."
Just as he rounded to the front of the car, he heard the sound of another riding down the pavement. Sully frowned, then shoved his nervousness aside and flagged them.
At least let me use your phone...
