FirstBreath1

My happiest childhood memory took place at a closing Circuit City. There were tons of sales that day. Buckets and barrels full of five dollar computer games stocked the shelves aisle to aisle. My father and I raided the store together, bringing home bags full of Independent releases and failed franchises. He passed away from cancer a few months later. That memory clung to me like wet paper for t...
"Hello, is this Mr. Henderson?" There was no real reason for me to pick up the phone. The spam app on my cell called out the mystery number right away. But, hell, I thought. Fuck it. There was no one else left in life for me to talk to. Even a debt collector sounded good at the moment. My wife was murdered in 2015. There really isn’t an easy way to say that other than getting it out of the way...