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It was done. She was done. Done with the bullshit. The fighting. The lies. So she left. She left her home, her job, the three dogs and the cat, the garden, even the goddamned state of California, and still it wasn't enough to get out of the circles she was running in her head. Forty-five years old and starting over, with nothing, again. And it pissed her off...

What he wouldn't give for a drink right now. Or a pill. Or a hit. But therein lies the road to insanity and death. God knows he'd already seen enough of both. Passing the bars on the way to the gym, hearing the music and the chatter of overlapping conversations float through the doors as he remembered when he used to be one of them. When it was he and his friends getting shit faced in the streets. Being loud and obnoxious. High on their own sense of power and immortality. And just plain high. Not too many of the old gang left now. Another funeral on Thursday. If he didn't get out of his own head he was gonna go crazy anyway, stone cold sober.

Jesus Christ!! What was she thinking!! Okay she knew what she was thinking. She was thinking the only good thing about this whole mess is that now she gets to fuck whoever she wants. Now, why she thought she'd find someone she'd want to fuck in a dive bar, that was the real question. She didn't drink. And drunks are no fun at all when you're sober. This is a bust. Time to go. She was digging in her purse for her keys just outside the doors of the bar when the putz who'd been so ...

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