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Just My Luck

It was a spring night that already felt like summer. I was sitting alone in my apartment, which was becoming par for the course on a Friday night. In all honesty, it was par for the course on Saturday night, Sunday night, Monday night and every other night, too. You see, ever since my fiancée had left me about four months earlier, I had been quite a hermit. I had gone to work on a fairly regular basis, and even been out with friends a time or two. But I had already had trust issues before this particular girl left me, and when she, the one true love of my life who had taught me to love and trust again, had decided it was more fun to fuck anyone she found attractive than to be engaged to be married, I had decided the human race was mostly a lost cause. Hence, the solitude.

Aside from a couple of friends I had known since my college years (not that long ago), my only other friends were Steve, Bob, and Angie. Steve was the delivery driver from Papa John's Pizza. He had long, unkempt hair and lots of facial hair. He was probably only about 20 but looked more like 35. Bob was the driver from Domino's. He was a nice middle-aged man who spoke eloquently and must have lost a much better job due to the lovely economy. Angie was a cutie. Now, most people wouldn't find her attractive. She was very plain all around. But she was always so happy. And that made her very cute to someone who wasn't quite on speaking terms with happy anymore. Oh, she was the ...

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