Original Version
Coffee was not going to cure Steve's utter eshaustion this morning. He had already drank three quarters of his large cappuccino (with two extra shots or espresso) and he was still completely wiped out. It had been another long night. Creative Loafing had begged him to occasionally review a concert, Dave FM had begged him to do a weekly call-in spot on the morning show, and L5P.com had begged him to contribute a diary of his experience living in Little Five Points. Everyone was begging and Steve was just too generous to turn any of them down. He did enjoy it. But aside from his impossible schedule, a cloud of fear and doubt had formed in his mind since his recent appointment with Dr. Wardlaw. Pharses like "killing yourself by degrees," "slow suicide," and "heart attack" pecked at the back of his mind, telling him what he already knew.
New Version
Steve glanced from the road to the large and hideously caffinated cappuccino in his hand. About three quarters gone already. Useless caffine. Don't do me a lot of good when I only got three hours of sleep last night. He rarely took the time to run down the list of all he'd crammed into any given night, although he always knew it was a lot given the feeling of being flattened that usually followed. But Spring Street was utterly slammed this morning, so he had a little bit of an opportunity to hope to God he hadn't forgotten anything. Finished the blog entry for the Little Five Points website. Went to the Hayes Carll set at Variety Playhouse and got notes for the <u>Creative Loafing</u> review... His thoughts stalled and Dr. Wardlaw's voice slinked into his head. "You're killing yourself by degrees, son." |
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