And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
By some grace of the Gods, Zeph reached over and told him to stop with a tone that implied he had understood; Sam could have fallen to his feet to kiss them he was so grateful (but thankfully, he was still sensible enough to not do that). While he knew this conversation wasn't going to end how he wanted, draped over Zeph like a romance novel heroine, at least it seemed like it wasn't going to damage their friendship.
"..I don't...know how to do that. How do you respect yourself or find value in yourself? Did you do it?" It was obvious, from the continued drinking, that Zeph was not entirely done with his own baggage, though Sam was willing to accept that was more due to the whole dead-wife-and-kid thing than a self esteem problem. He sighed and looked around the room, wondering for the millionth time what other moments had occurred in it in years passed. "...What if I never manage to do it, and I'm alone forever?"
"..I don't...know how to do that. How do you respect yourself or find value in yourself? Did you do it?" It was obvious, from the continued drinking, that Zeph was not entirely done with his own baggage, though Sam was willing to accept that was more due to the whole dead-wife-and-kid thing than a self esteem problem. He sighed and looked around the room, wondering for the millionth time what other moments had occurred in it in years passed. "...What if I never manage to do it, and I'm alone forever?"
SAMUEL
