Here's some text from a new story:
Walking underneath the stars to where his car was parked just outside the circle of light cast from a weak street lamp, Nathan had that tightness in his abdomen that signified dread, but his head was light and he smiled a hazy smile and gaped up happily at the moon. The houses were dark. He wondered if the neighbors were maybe on to him. Maybe they knew he was coming out here and getting stoned, then driving the ten miles of highway home every few weeks or so. Drifting alone out of the center lane. Letting the lights off little reflectors in the road way mark the shapes of the night upon his consciousness. He sung. He listened tenderly to the sounds of sometimes music, sometimes the beat of the road on the tires. But he was always somewhat aware that what he was doing was wrong, even though he had never attempted to change the behavior. He got to the car and unlocked the door as casually as he thought how. As he fumbled with his keys he tried to imagine himself sober, the way he might walk down a street and open a car door. He tried to think whether that natural grace was possible.