“Charlie…” Josef said and slowly trailed off, “I’m so- I’m so sorry… what- what can I say er- can I, should I not… ask what?”

“I’d rather not talk about it… some bad things happened, I lost- I lost somebody, then, well now I’m dying.” Charlie replied and sat up in his bed. “I made a mistake, death… it’s all over, and on top of that I’m dying, dying, going to die and there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Josef replied again, his hands falling limp at his sides, he looked down at his friend.

“Yeah… I didn’t want to say anything… about anything.” Charlie hung his head and ran his hand through his sandy hair, he rubbed so rapidly that it scratched at his scalp beneath the unkempt mop that his hair had become.

Tears sprang to Charlie’s eyes, “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I didn’t. Nothing was supposed to go wrong, it was just… and then…”

“Charlie… listen, whatever happened, I mean, they were important to you, I guess, huh?” Josef asked and took a step closer.

“You have no idea how much so… it feels like I’ve lost everything… or nearly everything, and what’s left I’m going to lose.” Charlie looked up at Josef. “I shouldn’t lay all this on you.” He said, hung his head, the quiet hung between them, stillness within the room such that even the rat hiding somewhere in the kitchen seemed to have quieted down.

“But it’s not supposed to be this way!” Charlie roared and slammed his fist back behind him into the plaster wall. It cracked and a small hole gave way under his angry blow, bits of dirty white and gray dust came down to add to the filth of the already filthy bed.

Charlie stood up and kicked his foot into a pile, the memory returned to him, a boy, at the beach, kicking into the still waters of a calm sea, a spray of water alight into the air to land with many small splashes in answer to his big one. The warm sun and swift air the way it grazed his skin, and all the world seemed right and perfect.

Now, here, his kick at the garbage sea over his apartment floor seemed a mockery of the life he knew, bottles, cans, broken and torn bits of wrappers and little boxes that once held cheap food. All flew out into the air and landed with little clattering and smacking noises amidst the sea of it all, and came to a standstill.

“If I had never been born… if I…” Charlie muttered, but didn’t finish the sentence.

“Charlie… none of that. It was an accident. You’d never hurt a fly.” Josef said and put a beefy hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie quickly spat out a response, “That doesn’t make the dead less dead now, does it Josef?”

“No. No I guess it doesn’t. But if you’d known what would happen, then you wouldn’t have done it, would you have?” Josef asked as reasonably as he could.

“Of course not!” Charlie shouted and brushed off the hand by slapping away the wrist. “Of course not! I’m not a monster! I never meant for any of that to happen! Any of this! Anything! Nothing! None of it, I swear!” Charlie balled up his hands into angry fists, “How can you even ask me that?!”

“Rhetorically.” Josef said with a blank face. “I asked because I already knew the answer, and I was reminding you of that.” Josef didn’t resist when Charlie batted his hand away, though he made a mental note to wash the wrist later as Charlie’s hand was… sticky.

“Accidents are… look, it’s like getting bitten by a stray dog.” Josef said and scratched the back of his head.

“What the hell does that mean?” Charlie groused and looked away, his fingers tensed into a fist so tight his knuckles were whitening.

“You know… you don’t plan for it, can’t predict it, it isn’t really anyone’s fault, but it happens. Sure the bite still hurts, but there’s really nobody to blame. It’s just bad luck.” Josef said with a shrug.

“Right, stray dog…” Charlie rolled his eyes, ‘One hell of a damn dog…’ He thought with dry humor in spite of himself.

“Yeah, like that.” Josef nodded.

“Remember that girl in college who cheated on you, the one you liked, she met a guy, had a few and hooked up with him?” Charlie asked.

Josef sighed, “Darlene. Yeah, what about her?”

“Do you think she felt it was like getting bitten by a stray dog when she had the drink, hooked up with the guy, or did you feel that way when you caught her?” Charlie asked. He turned his eye up to the face of his friend, and winced mentally when he saw the bright azure eyes briefly glass over from the long ago pain.

Josef’s shoulders slumped.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you that way, you’re just trying to help. Here…” Charlie finally took out his wallet and handed over the credit card from within. “Charge me whatever is fair and we’ll call it a day… I need… I need to be alone.”

Josef pursed his lips, he took the card in his right hand and drew out his smartphone with his left, swiped the card, then gave it back.

“Do I need to tip you anything, do I need to sign anything?” Charlie asked, putting away his card and his wallet.

“No, we’re good. Why don’t you let me bring you something tomorrow, something decent to eat, you can’t keep eating garbage.” Josef suggested,

“Or living in it?” Charlie asked when he saw the way Josef looked around the apartment.

“Right. Or living in it.” Josef said, “Are you sure you won’t let me just stay and help you get some of this cleaned up?”

“No.” Charlie replied, “I really, really just want to be alone right now.”

“OK… Ok. If that’s what you want, but I’ll be by tomorrow.” Josef promised, and Charlie nodded with slow reluctance.

Josef was gone a moment later after stepping carefully to avoid any scattered or toppled waste.

It felt good to smash things. That was what Charlie realized very quickly, kicking the trash had been cathartic in a strange sort of way, it incited him to do more. He kicked some more, his legs weren’t as strong as they had been in the past, but they were good enough. Bottles, cans, empty lemon pudding cups hurtled toward the wall as if they were siege weapons assaulting a castle wall.

They bounced away, tumbling down to form new little piles where they landed. Charlie brought his foot up and spied a bucket from a chicken place, the old man on the front had a smile on his face. ‘Mocking me.’ He thought, it was absurd, he knew it was absurd.

But that didn’t change Charlie Manning’s desire to smash it, break it, and he did. His foot came down toward the bucket of crumbs and dried grease soaked cardboard that had miraculously survived intact until that moment.

His foot caught the edge over the old man’s face and the bucket snapped down like a catapult, leaving Charlie’s foot halfway in and the logo face down. He bared his teeth hatefully at it, then brought his foot up again and began to stomp on it.

“Stupid… piece… of… garbage! Stupid! Worthless! Stupid trash!” Charlie yelled at nothing, secure in his empty existence, he picked things up and threw them against the wall, a chicken bone cracked audibly, and he felt better for hearing it.

His blood boiled and rushed through his veins, his pulse raced like he was running again the way he used to, sweat ran from his brow with the effort he was putting into just… even he didn’t know. ‘It doesn’t matter! There’s no point! None!’ He howled alone in his head, furious at himself, furious at his employers for hiring him and putting him on that project. Furious at… just everything. Outside he heard a car horn honk, someone was yelling, tires screeched, and somebody screamed and there was the distant sound of crumpling metal.

A woman’s voice, high pitched, terrified, then wailing. ‘Dead.’ He didn’t know how he knew, but somebody out there was dead.

‘If they only knew.’ He thought, and glanced out the window, he didn’t look toward the noise and sound to see the accident that was already drawing a crowd. He looked toward the sky. ‘Will that survive us, at least?’ He had no idea.

Charlie lingered there at the window, guilt and impotent frustration gnawed at him, his fingers twitched until he grabbed his arms and dug his uncut nails so tightly into his skin that he felt the wet, sticky warmth of his own blood.

The hopeless guilt of his whirlwind of destruction wasn’t gone, not after so little… but the recent numbness in a way, it was desirable now. ‘At least then I didn’t notice time passing at all…’ Charlie mournfully thought while the sound of a blaring siren in the distance began to grow closer.

He looked toward the accident at last, bobbing heads, lookie loos, were close by, a four door sedan, gold, was smashed into a street light over the sidewalk. A child, a girl from what he could tell from her long dress, probably about nine, was holding a woman’s leg.

‘Her mother?’ Charlie wondered in a detached fashion. ‘No.’ He realized, the child was white, the woman she was holding was black, and a few feet away, bleeding on the street, was the unmoving body of a woman that was, even from where he stood looking out the window, an older mirror of the girl. ‘Even dressed the same. One of those parents, the ones who like to dress their children like miniature versions of themselves.’ Charlie never liked those types, and seeing a dead one didn’t change that. Though a sickening sense of pity roiled in his gut and an ache hit his chest that didn’t lightly fade.

It however, was drowned out immediately by his mind, ‘Based on the skid marks from here the car was going fifty to fifty-five in a thirty mile per hour zone, the woman crossed with her child. The driver saw them too late, she yanked her child back but was hit herself. The driver then swerved, far too late, then went across the street, jumped the sidewalk and hit the telephone pole having only slowed down by ten miles per hour. Alive or dead? Alive or dead?’

‘Ninety percent odds of death if they got it down to forty, unless they’re drunk, then their bodies will be relaxed enough to increase the odds of survival.’ Charlie did the math in a moment.

“Drunk.” He said it out loud. “Now ‘that’ sounds like a good idea.”

He left the window, left his apartment after a single reticent moment at the door, ‘I did it… okay it was a week ago, not that I noticed, but still, I did it. Fuck this place.’ Charlie’s desperate sorrow burned, tearing into the tear ducts of his eyes and threatening to start the infantile bawling all over again. He covered it by rapid, hasty long steps that weren’t quite a run as he descended, almost stomping his way outside. He put his back to the chaotic accident, going the opposite direction of Josef’s place, he instead hit the nearest liquor store. ‘I doubt Josef would sell me anything now anyway.’

The clear glass windows of the liquor store showed off the high end brands they had available, along with a mix of middle grade brands in bright clear glass bottles that caught the light just right to shine through the liquid and make it almost translucent.

Clean and orderly, ‘Good Thymes’ was another neighborhood fixture, started fifty years ago when the father of the current owner closed his restaurant and retired to Florida, the son opened a small private club in the back and set up a liquor store in the front. One of the only places to get dual licencing, it was a point of pride to get in the back.

But for now, Charlie only wanted what was out front. The bell rang and a young college girl looked up with a smile, only to immediately look down. Charlie looked away himself. He walked up and down the aisles until he found a bottle of aged Four Roses. He darted out his hand, snatched it up, and went to the cashier.

He slapped both the credit card and the bottle down at once. “Make it quick!” He snapped, and she stepped back with wide eyed shock. ‘She’s a pretty, young thing.’ Which only made it more tragic in his eyes, ‘She’ll never be old.’ Was the kindest thought he could offer, pale skin, and there was a book beside her, a textbook.

He read it upside down, “Astrophysics: Theory & Practice” and his name below, “Charlie Manning”. She was studying his textbook. Professional pride lingered, she took up the card, looking at him with her best effort to suppress her disgust at his stench and disheveled appearance, and fear that he might be an actual criminal.

She ran the card, and he couldn’t resist the urge to say something. “Astrophysics… dangerous subject, that one.”

She gave a numb little nod and slid the card back over to him across the counter rather than simply handing it back.

He took it, avoiding her touch, then with his bottle in a brown paper bag that crumpled when he grabbed the upper half, he left to go back home, as eager for numbness as a child on Christmas Eve.