It was a jovial crowd; several of the men wanted to slap me on the back after I'd laughed at their jokes, if they were jokes, but they'd been drinking...and their slaps or pats landed a lot lower than my back. Or maybe they were just football players and fanny-patting was their regular approach. The first few times I thought it should have bothered me, but it seems one can become accustomed to almost anything, at least if one is drunk.I really wanted to get better acquainted with one of those. "Open it up, there's a mirror in there." I move towards it, anxious and unsupported in places I have never needed support before. Everything feels wrong, weighs wrong, hangs wrong. Still hoping for the hallucination to die I step up to the door, hesitate for god knows how long, steal myself and lose my nerve again, then, with a final wheeze of desperation, throw it open. My mind does not at first catch what my eyes now see. Finally, securing my fragile sanity and stepping back from the brink. More

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