In A Drunken Rage

As the sun rose in the sky, Rowen's fingers twitched him awake. The drunken man woke with a headache, yet the memories from last night were fresher than the dream he'd just been in. Grabbing the dining chair he stumbled his way up on his feet, nearly collapsing once or twice, but somehow managed to keep himself on his feet. 

Once up on his own and stable on his feet, his mind simmered with anger, with rage beyond anything he'd ever felt. He was a man of little value, who tried to abuse everything he had, even the small position at the gates to extort merchants and passersby. So how could he? How could he let go of what happened in his household? His wife's infidelity–the property he owned.

Despite his storming mind, however, he reached not for her throat which he could see from the cracked door of their bedroom, but rather a bottle of ale he'd stashed behind one of the cabinets.