He had something to look forward to once, several years back. He wasn’t always a loner and actually had peeps that cared about him. He was actually some little girl’s father, cooing, talking baby talk, acting suburban and all that shit. Things really mattered. For a while.

Spence had a wife then. He had in-laws, car payments and fescue with brown patch. He played softball with the guys from church and at 22, had already surpassed his father in annual earnings, working tool and die for the factory machine shop.

He didn’t have big dreams or false allusions about being anything other than a working stiff with a wife and kids that loved him. His missus was cute and turned plenty of heads when they went out. That didn’t bother Spence; in fact he thought it was validation that he had made a good choice. He felt good when he caught other guys checking out his wife.

She was a good little cook too. Always making his favorite corned beef hash, potatoes and she knew how to bake, that one.

Turned out, she had a boyfriend. Things didn’t matter after that.