There was always a process that he stuck to as if he had obsessive compulsive disorder. He'd always wake up at the same time, relieve himself and clean up in the bathroom, and then head to the kitchen to make his breakfast. The first serving of the day was also always the same, consisting of hot tea, two slices of toast, and a bowl of oatmeal. Peaches and cream was always his preference, as he enjoyed a little flavor in his manufactured gruel. His toast was only lightly browned and the topped with margarine and a cottage cheese. His tea was made with four spoons of sugar and a rather generous helping of one percent milk. Once the food was ready, he'd carry everything into the living room, and park himself in front at his desk and in front of his computers. There were two of them: a desktop with a pretty decent sized flat screen monitor along with a laptop on the side used to watch podcasts or watch videos on YouTube if things got rather boring. Breakfast was consumed while checking email and looking at stock sites while eating quietly. By the time he was finished eating all the small stuff was done and it was time to finally get to work.

He sat down and stared at the empty page that just had a number that indicated what chapter would be the sole focus of his attention that day. Moments later he started to tap the keys in front of him and start to form words, sentences, and even paragraphs that actually made sense and were going somewhere. He was establishing a good pace until the cell phone started to sing a particular tune. The man at the desk stopped writing and looked at the phone and thought about what he should do, but let it go to voicemail. He could tell by the assigned ringtone that it was his older brother calling, and he decided to get back to him later rather than break the flow he was enjoying at the moment. Yet less than a minute later, the phone started to sing the same ringtone again a second time. Fuck me, he thought to himself. His brother would only call more than once if it was something urgent. They both had a standing agreement that if it was something that could wait, they'd call once and then wait to be called back. If one of them called more than once in a row, it was something that simply could not wait. He reluctantly picked up his cell phone and opened the line.

"David," He started, "I'm actually writing right now, and I have a decent flow. Can this wait?"

"I'm afraid not, Henry." David replied, "I need to tell you something rather important."

Henry sat there and took another deep breath, and the stood up and walked away from his desk. He didn't like to have his flow interrupted so if this was some bullshit like the announcement of a new movie or getting a good sale at the grocery store, he was going to go ballistic on his elder sibling.

"What the hell is it then?" Henry asked.

"It's about Lou," David said, sounding more serious than usual.

"What about her?" Henry said, as he hadn't thought about Lou in quite a while.

"The cancer came back," David answered.

"Fuck me," Henry said, as this was just another chapter in a long battle with the disease. "Is she alright?"

"No," David replied, "She died three days ago."

Upon hearing those words, Henry's heart sank and he grabbed to nearby computer chair to make sure he didn't lose his balance. He took another deep breath and carried on.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he cursed again, knowing his brother didn't mind. "Who did you hear it from?"

"I talked to her sister, she asked me to get in touch with you." David said, "I'm sorry, man."

"Thanks," Henry said, still processing it in his head. "Thanks for getting to me about this."

"I'm here if you need someone to talk to," David continued, trying to be supportive.

"I'll be alright," Henry lied, "Any word on the service?"

"It's this Saturday," David answered, "Are you sure you want to go?"

"I don't know," Henry said, being rather honest, "I'll have to think about it."

"Fair enough," David said, "I can't make it, as Beth and I are both working that day."

"Don't sweat it," Henry said, "You can't miss work for that. They'll understand that rent and food is also important."

"I wish I could be there," David insisted, sounding remorseful on the phone.

"I know," Henry said, "I'll let them know that."

"So you are going?" David said, sounding surprised.

"I probably should," Henry said, thinking about it. "I don't think I could live with the idea of not going and missing a chance for closure."

"I'm heading to work, so try to stay positive." David said, "I'll call you on the bus home."

"Alright," Henry agreed, "Talk to you later."

The line went dead, and Henry stood there in silence for what seemed like hours but was less than ten minutes. He slowly placed the cell phone back on the desk and slowly started to pace the room. He was not pleased to hear the news, despite not thinking about the person in question for years, a few of them actually. When was the last time he saw her? Henry racked his brain trying to figure it out and the answer popped into his brain. It was a brief encounter, a few years after they had broken up, just outside the mall. He was walking in to hand off some paper work with the city, and she was leaving after attending class. She started taking a medical receptionist course and was wearing purple scrubs. Henry remembered she looked good in them and he had said he was happy to hear she was doing well. Lou looked good and even healthy at the time, only spoke for a moment and then said good-bye. Not the worst last encounters someone could have with a person they used to be close with. It could have been a lot worse, their last encounter could have been their break up.

Henry walked back into the kitchen to get another drink, only this time something much stronger. Henry took a bottle of vodka out of the cupboard, and then poured a few fingers into a rather tall glass. He grabbed the kid's orange juice from the fridge, and grinned a bit as he poured the OJ into the glass to top it off. Screwdrivers was actually Lou's favorite, so it was fitting that this was what he would use to take the edge off. Henry took another deep breath and then drank the entire glass in less than ten seconds, downing it all in one turn. Right after finishing the drink, he turned around and threw the glass at the wall with extreme prejudice. It shattered into a million pieces and fell to the floor in many slivers.

"God damn you, Louanne," Henry said, almost growling the words. "You always knew how to fuck up my flow."