Right after highschool I moved out to the midwest. I have nothing for me here on the west coast and needed to get away from the drama that my life was tied up in. My parents offered me no support, my friends were dead beats and the girl I had loved had lost interest in me. Instead of being a bitch and being a fucking bum and working at pizza hut till I was 30, I moved away from the town I lived in and settled down a thousand miles east of where I was born and raises.

There I met Nic. He was tall, thin and had eyes that were completely black. He worked at a morgue, or a funeral home or something... He handled dead bodies; picked them up, dropped them off, dressed them up and cremated them. When Nic and I hung out and did stuff together things would always happen, things that couldn't be explained by me or any logic I possessed at the time. I knew very little of Nic, never met any family and didn't learn anything of his past. He lived alone and as far as I know, never hung out with anyone but me.