It was a dark and stormy night. Dr. Aaron Gallagher, a former professor and head of the psychology department at the local university, lugged his suitcase up the 4 flights of stairs to his apartment, number 448. "Crazy bitch," he thought. "Why'd she have to move out AND sell the house?" His suitcase was full of his necessary belongings, such as clothes and toiletries, but also of the various objects his wife (ex-wife, technically speaking) Robin threw at him when she kicked him out. Objects like: a silver napkin holder, piano music to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, an umbrella, an umbrella stand, and a bike pump. The napkin holder was especially uncomfortable, he found, to be hit in the back with. At 5'6" and roughly 200 pounds, the stairs were no easy feat for Aaron. By the time he got to the top, his Lands' End button-down was entirely soaked through. "Blast," he muttered under his breath, one of the many phrases he used to make himself sound more British and therefore more clever. It worked, or so he thought. It did at least with the Norwegian exchange student Janne with whom he carried on an affair for roughly seven months. "We never would have gotten caught," thought Aaron, "if she hadn't persuaded me to boost her grade on the final."
Aaron opened his two windows in the apartment because it was "so damn hot in here," and unpacked his many sweater vests and sensible slacks. He set out his alarm clock, except he didn't really see the point, as he didn't have anything he needed to wake up for anymore. He lost his job, his family, his home, all for nothing. Janne went back to Norway and won't return his emails. So now, with no prospects, plans, hope, or optimism, Aaron sat on his unmade bed, and pondered how he possibly could have sunk so low.
