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June 9, 2010
With all of James's struggling, the pressure within the bottle was losing integrity. He sat, dazed, watching miniature bubbles swirl around his fingers--pressed to the heavy brown glass all around him. He was slowly rising toward the cork, like Charlie and his Grandpa in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Suddenly the bubbles, which James thought were merely exfoliating his skin, turned to foam. There was a loud POP before he lost consciousness and flew through the bottleneck at breakneck speed--convulsing wildly after striking his nightstand. Sobriety hadn't been enough for him; soon there would only be hope.