Without You I’m Nothing . . . – Part 2

Beautiful but Unlikely

rage 3

Alone in a stranger’s house with only two cats for company—one crazy, the other increasingly frail—these were hard times trying to hold ground—arrogant, self-deluded, yet ever more and more nervous. Happiness—it was all a matter of luck.

I saw Michael again one night on TV. Just out of the blue. I’d believed myself sheltered from any such blow by the religious avoidance all sports media, but beyond niche famous now, here he was promoting a credit card company in prime time. Like Lazarus rising from dead emotion. Larger in all aspects, he was riding high and funny (Don’t you know me . . .?), grinning his predatory grin. I blamed him for everything. Everything. His onscreen charm rubbed our diverging fortunes in my face. How many girls dreamt of succumbing to this seductive power, I could well guess, exquisitely trigger-cocked down the line to give him whatever he…

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