I stumbled with the sway of the ship into the side of the wooden corridor, scraping the gash in my shoulder. I winced and bit down on my teeth to keep from making a sound.
Loss is a painful thing; one that can spur a man to a variety of terrible actions if only to effect even the slightest bit of change. When a man always loses and everything foreseeable shows he can only lose, that man’s perspective on what is or isn’t moral begins to change. He becomes hopeless, detached, and potent. Desperation is dangerous.
We Were Partners
“Hello Tim,” I greeted, squeezing past the organized piles of junk on the floor of my brother’s apartment. I set a few bags of groceries, that I had picked up earlier for him, on his cluttered kitchen counter. I suppose I’d forgotten what it was like to live single—no one cared about the mess. My nose wrinkled at the smell in the air. Just because we lived in Amherst, Massachusetts, the permeating stench of fish in his apartment did not make it any more bearable.