Still Among the Living [antikvár]

1My eyes opened half an hour before the alarm was supposed to sound. Something had sliced through my sweaty tossing. I reached for the glass on the floor and swallowed through a dry mouth, hot with leftover grass and tobacco. The harsh, grating blare of the back-door buzzer eliminated the remnants of my indeterminate dreams and dragged at my dread tight stomach. I almost spilled the water. It wouldn't have mattered; only the plants liked the lead taste. I forced my eyes closed and wrapped a pillow around my head. The buzzer kept insisting and I finally stood up. I could outwait the telephone, but lost every time to the doorbell. I held onto the dresser but avoided looking into the mirror on the way to the kitchen. I wobbled across the room, fumbled with the chain, yanked the door open, and stood gridlocked in my underwear in front of my shrink.I stole a glance down the front of my shorts to see if my fly was open, then worried about whether Dr. James had to pick her way through sleeping drunks in the alley. My apartment was in a mixed area of the cityranging from students and musicians to the rich and famous. I lived closer to the musicians. When I lived here years ago the alley housed a solid percentage of the city's alkies. Since this was a neighborhood the pols used to broaden the tax base, most, but not all, of my neighbors were gone by the time I retumed.After the accident my father-in-law, Lou, bought the building and put me in charge. He assured me his cash flow 1