i see you looking at me
giving me that attitude
with that expression like
i'm dog shit stuck to
the bottom of your Chuck
but don't blame me
for not saving you
i didn't sign up for that job
it was already taken
you're the one who kept
calling in sick

Wally pulled down the blinds, poured himself two fingers, and plopped down in his leather recliner. It was only after he had taken a long sip that he allowed himself to glance at the wall clock. He winced, realizing that it was only twenty after ten on a Friday morning, and he was already having a drink. Telling himself that it was after noon somewhere in the world did little to alleviate his guilt. He didn’t drink often, but he found that when he did, it always seemed to be at an inappropriate time or occasion. And the worst of it, the reason he didn’t drink much in the first place, was that as the warmth flowed down into his belly and infused his veins with liquid light, his thoughts turned immediately to Bethany.

Beth had been a good wife – actually, she had been a great wife. In their thirty-seven years together, a day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t felt like the luckiest man in the world. They had been meant for each other, always of the same mind, always of the same heart. The only thing that Beth had ever done to hurt him in all that time was to pass away and leave him to live on without her.

He pushed the thought away. It wasn’t a good idea to dwell on his loss. The emotion became too strong, too big for him to bear, and he would end up morose and useless. Not that he had anything pressing to do. Retirement did that – robbed a man of his sense of purpose and feeling of urgency to accomplish anything. As a young man, there were never enough hours in a day. Opportunities and experiences slipped away because his hand were already too full to grab at them. These days it seems, he kept his hands in his pockets, no longer sure what else to do with them.