Errol Fluevog tugged at the down pillow; its soft plunge gave way easily. Failure, all too familiar. His modus operandi: giving up. The death knell tolled, and he could not shake it. Errol had to get it right this time. Slumped over his knees, he let his heavy body, weary, slide unabated, to the floor. He reached for the plastic bag beside the motel bed and dumped out the toiletries he had purchased earlier that morning. Working quickly before he changed his mind, he pulled the bag over the top of his head and tied it around his neck until the fit was snug. Gasping for air, he refused to let go. Finally, success. 114 words
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April 2024
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