1.

The year before I met Grod was by far the worst in my life, yet. Publishers, so tired of turning me down, were blocking my phone number. Even Joe Henderson, my long-time friend turned publisher, physically ripped a novel of mine to shreds and told me I had created "nonsensical rubbish." Suffice to say that he was not my friend much longer. The money was running thin, and I was beginning to observe my apartment utilities being cut off one at a time.

"Paul, it's over," my girlfriend said to me. I was lying on the couch and she was towering over me, fuming. I have to say, for a moment the beauty of her long face, flowing blond hair and deep green eyes made me feel sorry for what she was saying. But I had seen this day coming a month away, and now all I could manage to convey was poorly-disguised indifference.

"Why's it over, honey?"

"Paul, you don't have a job. Our rent is overdue. The electricity just went off this afternoon. I know I put up with a lot of your shit, but this is too much."

Now this made me angry. Nicole had a point about our circumstances, but she knew better than to insult my career like that.

"I do have a job," I said, raising my voice and sitting upright on the sofa to point at her angrily, as though casting a curse. "I'm a goddamn writer, and sometimes writers have to make it through hard times. When publishers won't publish my shit, I don't get paid." I rose to my feet, now towering over her.

"You drink more than you write. Why don't you just call that your job?" She didn't back down as I had hoped she might.

I laughed at the thought and relaxed slightly, "Because you'd leave me if I did that."

I realized instantly that I had a made a mistake, but it was too late. Her lips curled and her eyes narrowed. "Well, I am leaving you, Paul. Maybe you can pull yourself together and get a real job, but I'm not going to wait to find out. Don't bother calling." She turned around and grabbed the suitcase that had been sitting by the door all day.

"Yeah, well don't bother coming back," I called after her as she walked out the front door. "If you're gonna walk out the minute the going gets rough, I don't need your dead weight dragging me down. You think you're all high and mighty now, but without me-" I was cut off by the slamming of the door.

I fell back into the couch and resumed staring into the blank TV screen as I had been doing for the better part of the day. Almost instantaneously my thoughts drifted to my phone and I considered calling her and apologizing, but told myself no. Over the next hour or so, however, my mind kept drifting back to Nicole.

"Fuck it," I finally said. I picked up my phone and hit the speed dial button dedicated to her, but nothing happened. And then it dawned on me that my phone service had been cut off, as well.

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