The Ritual of Relapse

This is a blurb I wrote, a potential start to a short story.
Feel free to critique it and pick it apart, or give me your ideas about where things could go! (:

Anthony was roused from a fitful sleep when, at 6 am, the sun began to shine unapologetically through his bedroom window. Light penetrated his closed eyelids and he hesitantly opened them; he was greeted by the familiar sight of his unkempt bedroom, littered with empty beer cans and blunt skins, evidence of his relapse last night. Anthony felt a familiar rush of emotions come over him, a mix of guilt, shame, disdain, and despair so heavy it crippled him. This feeling came so often and was so multi-faceted that Anthony had long ago stopped trying to label it. In his mind, it was simply called “hell” and it had only one remedy- more alcohol. 

Anthony fumbled his hand over his nightstand, hoping to find his glasses, but his hand closed around the cold glass of a whiskey bottle instead. He looked over to find it was accompanied by his favourite shot glass, empty and clean, awaiting his use. Anthony realized that, even in his drunken stupor last night, he had foreshadowed this morning perfectly. He was horrified that such uncontrollable behavior had been so carefully premeditated, that relapse was nothing more than a ritual to him now, unpreventable and familiar.

The End

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