Part Nine: The Price of Loneliness

Photo by Atharva Tulsi on Unsplash

Seeing my condo in its utter chaos that night with Sandra, I was sick with sadness for my boy. He was trying. I could see it in the fact that, despite my joking, there wasn't any spoiled milk in his fridge or a single bottle of Red Bull. There were eggs and sliced turkey.  A loaf of fresh bread, Kraft American cheese si…