Thanks to some bad life choices in my youth I’m pretty hard to kill. So I was staring at the pistol in my hand and thinking on the pointlessness of using it to end my life compared to the much better option of the fucking painkillers in my bathroom when the doorbell rang.
I tried to pause the mp3 right as the narrator was about to explain how the streetwise and plucky Wizard managed to fire an accurate bolt of fire over his shoulder whilst diving through the air to take cover behind the statue in Central Park, but I missed the button. So the story droned on through the Bluetooth speaker mounted under the TV on my wall.
I was irrationally annoyed at the interruption. Also, I was intrigued as to who could be knocking at my door. I don’t have any friends left in this world and the one that I’d pretended was my friend was still serving in the military. Me? I had been brutally and forcibly discharged and had been working hard to recover from the trauma of the experience that led to that. Trying hard and failing.
So I was living the life of a semi-hermit and hadn’t talked to nor seen another human being other than the gal who delivered my groceries for almost two months.
The bell rang again as I reached the door and looked through the eyepiece. Outside stood a woman I had seen in pictures, but never in person. Shocked, I automatically tucked my pistol into my waistband and reached out, opening the door to stand awkwardly staring at Sarah Egils, wife of that man I once called a friend from the service.
“Hello, I’m-”
“You’re Frank’s wife, Sarah, right?” I interrupted deadpan.
I realized how weird that was and tried to come alive long enough to have a conversation. Painting on a pretend face of humanity, I said, “Wonderful to meet you! I’m Drustan Seta. Please, call me Dru.”
