Untitled, again. Any suggestions?

Sam was devastated. Not only had his girlfriend left him, but his dog, his sanity and his much loved wine collection had all just up and left. Well truthfully his girlfriend was still where she always was, it was he that had left. His wine collection was now a pile of empty bottles in the corner and his dog was, well who knows where his dog was. The point is that Sam was alone, without even the simple pleasure of his sanity's company.

It was his own fault, or rather, it was whoever he used to be's fault. Sam was a changed man. To outward appearances, except for his haggard beard, haggard face, and generally haggard appearancee he was the same man. Inside was, however, a very different story which, were it to be told, would probably make quite a tragic and moving screenplay. This was not a story that would become a tragic and moving screenplay, the reasons for which shall soon become apparent, if not blindingly obvious.

Sam's problem was (apart from having no girlfriend, no dog, no sanity and, most distressingly, no wine) this: He had absolutely no idea where he was ot how he'd got there. The only thing he knew for sure was that is was his fault; it was always his fault, this he had learned from an early age. How he had learnt this is not important, suffice to say that he revieved comments like "you stupid boy, it's all your fault" and "Don't blame me it's your fault" quite a lot.

Sam had woken that morning like every other morning, on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, his head feeling the way a football must have felt after a particularly gruelling game and put the kettle on. Looking out the window he was not surprised to see utter blackness, instead of the hazy grey forest of high-rise buildings that he should have seen. Cup of tea in hand, he went back to the couch to contemplate the loss of his sanity.

It hadn't always been like this; that he was sure of. But when or how the whole world had disappeared he couldn't quite remember. He didn't care too much, it was just that without an outside world there was nowhere to get any wine. Waking up after a hard nights drinking with a hangover was one thing, but waking after a hard nights not drinking with a hangover seemed unnecisarily cruel.

As he had done every day he could remember, which wasn't very many, Sam decided to go and get some more wine. He opened the front door and steped out into the hallway. Not for the first time, he wondered what was behind the numerous doors passing him as he walked to the lift.

To be continued...