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The Nice Guy -- excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter 1


He could feel it rising from the depths of his chest as it always did when misfortune intruded, the notorious impact of intense anxiety. Flushed, clammy, his breathing rapid as his eyes darted around the room as if something lying in wait would jump from the shadows. Scratching his left forearm, he rose from the chair and headed to the kitchen. On the counter sat a row of plastic containers, his medications. He reached for the one he takes when this happens, unscrewed the cap and shook three of the little tablets into his hand. No, only one…only take one, he reminded himself. His trembling hand deposited two of the tiny white pills back into the plastic container, his heart pounding wildly, deep in his chest. It was getting worse, that feeling, that damned feeling. I’ve gotta get outta here, he thought. “But where?” he said aloud. “Please stop,” he pleaded in a breathless gasp.

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