Originally appeared in The Illinois Times, September, 2001

Monday

John’s first morning with sobriety left him feeling funky, awkward, with an odd familiar friend. He felt as though he was a new toy the world had just taken out of the box as he wiped the sleepy Styrofoam from the corners of his eyes. With a deep breath of the unfamiliar morning air that mixes between last call and noon, he stroked the stubble on his cheek and wondered if in his new toy state, he smelled of plastic. He wrestled with the idea that in an hour, the world would move on and find a better toy.