The Meeting
By benafim
The Meeting When I drove to the meeting the evening was dark, the hall badly lit, cold and chairs were creaky and hard. One by one they told how happy they were now that they were no longer in the grip of fearful tyrant alcohol. They spoke about anxiety, hate and resentment, like they were unique that no one in the world suffered like them. A lull, I felt that I was expected to speak, told lies and wondered if I was the only mendacious person the hall. Meeting over everyone seemed happy but me, it was raining when driving home and knew that I had missed the message. Written November 15th, 2001 © on Nov 15 2001 06:56 AM PST 0 • 9
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"The Meeting..."