Come Into My Parlor by Charles E. Fritch — Read

Sober or drunk, Johnny was seeing things. Like spider webs in the night sky. But as a newspaper reporter, Bennet had the job of keeping facts and fancies separate. He was good at that -- too good!

I found Johnny a few blocks from our hotel in a little bar that was nearly deserted. He was sitting alone at a table in a dark corner, staring morosely at nothing in particular, his hand limp around an almost-empty glass. He seemed perfectly sober, though his eyes stared glassily ahead.