Rick opens his eyes. For a moment he is disoriented. Then he remembers. He looks around the living room of the mountain cabin. He and Ed had built this place just a year earlier. He sighs deeply and realizes he still holds a glass in his hand as he sits hunched down in the overstuffed chair in which he fell asleep. The glass is empty and the stain on his jeans reveals he has spilled his whiskey, probably as he drifted off. He pushes himself upright, sets the glass on the table next to his chair, puts his head in his hands, and rubs his eyes. Rick has to piss. He gets up and walks to the bathroom and relieves himself. He turns and looks at his reflection in the mirror over the sink.
“How did this happen? How could this happen?” he asks himself out loud. “How could this fuckin’ happen?” he
