THIRTY
After work, James stopped home and took Rigs for a walk. On their walk, he contemplated his life over the last several days. Things had spiraled out of control. That was the only way he could look at it: as if it were spiraling out of control.
He spent six years isolating himself. Six years doing the same thing, day in and day out. He worked. He walked his dog. He drank. He didn’t think about or worry about anyone other than himself. His life, if that was what he called it, was manageable. He’d found a way to keep pushing on, and it worked for him.
Until now.
He couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of guilt he felt. If Charlie hadn’t stopped the momentum last night, he’d have slept with her.
Linda was always on his mind, but somehow he’d pushed her memory out of the way while
