He had just watched a depressing French movie about an elderly guy forced to provide medical care as best he could for his wife, who had been ravaged by a stroke.
The subject of old people and their care punched a bruise in Dan’s brain. He had one living parent: an alcoholic, dysfunctional mess of a man who seemed to be going through the stages of mummification, though still breathing....
He would never die, Dan often thought while cradling himself to sleep, because evil like that does not die.
But according to the next door neighbor, the Punch Happy Prick was now pissing his pants and confusing the mail carrier with a hooker, and this left Dan with a heavy feeling.