SECOND CHANCES
3/19/03. 2:09am. Home.

... and suddenly it was gone, the great sadness that had possessed him for so long had dissolved, and in its place swelled a great euphoria, because finally he felt like he knew what he could do, and for once he felt so powerful, not helpless at all this time...

... and some people at work noticed a change, and he seemed to be in such a good mood, so sure of himself after that period of melancholy, no longer moody, no longer irritable, at ease with his surroundings for once, and although it was a cliché, for once he actually seemed comfortable in his own skin...

... and a week went by, and one morning a little red truck like his turned up on the 21st Street Bridge, and he didn't call, and he didn't show up, and he didn't answer the phone, and his pager was beeping from a drawer in his office, and although they soon replaced him, some of them always wondered what had happened, and some guessed, and they didn't talk about it much, and none of them was ever really sure, and eventually his landlord rented the house to someone else...

... and within six months a man who looked very much like him turned up in a town three states away, and he didn't know anyone, and he had a different name, and a different background, and The Look-Alike had that same scar on his elbow, and The Look-Alike made a few friends and got a guitar and a bicycle and a boring job in a boring factory...

... and within six months The Look-Alike had a lot of the same problems that had plagued The Original, and within six months The Look-Alike was possessed with the same sadness that had consumed The Original, and within six months The Look-Alike knew what had to be done, and soon The Look-Alike disappeared from his town too...

... and that, Your Honor, combined with the substantial amount of alcohol I consumed upon my return, is more or less how I came to be -- to use the plaintiff's words -- "lurking" in his house that night.

Really, I was as surprised as anyone that they hadn't changed the locks or anything. I mean, if anyone's to blame for this, it's the damn landlord. A full year to change a couple of stupid locks, for crying out loud!

Anyway, I throw myself on the mercy of the court. The defense rests, or whatever.

Stupid landlord.