The pounding of my heart in my ears is deafening. My throat burns with the breakfast I just ate threatening to come up. My palms are sweating and my hands are starting to shake. I was having a full-fledged panic attack.
The server leaned over and said, “You want a to-go box for that?”
“No, I want a back door. Do you have one?”
“Through there.” She pointed, “I’ll get your check.”
I slapped a twenty on the bar and said, “Keep the change.”
I put my sunglasses on tried to walk as calmly as possible to the back. Only after pushing open the door to the alley did I run as fast as I could in the opposite direction of the restaurant where the person I most did not want to see in the whole world was – the ex before last, J.
My last weekend of drinking is getting off to a wonderful start. Hoorah.