Surprise Endings

Knuckles rapping with purpose on the old wooden door sounded miles away in his hazy stupor.  Persistent pounding on the peeling paint invaded his fog-like trance stemming from a 3 day meth binge. He secretly hoped someone else strung out in the living room would address the piercing racket, but no one flinched from their catatonic states. Haggardly, he stood and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, scratched skin so itchy that it felt like ants were crawling all over him and yanked up his baggy pants that used to fit. Greasy hair was pasted to his forehead as he staggered towards the front door.