Jack went to the kitchen, found a beer, and stood, leaning against the sink, thinking about how crummy his life turned out.
He thought about Paula. The famous, rich, important Paula.
If he hadn’t dropped her home to go after that Pro….then they’d still be together.
He had seen Paula after that night. She was always with someone or going somewhere, and he was out of her life.
He imagined if he hadn’t been. If he hadn’t….
But he had.
As he drank his beer he recalled moments they had spent together, kisses, but they hadn’t gone much further…
maybe if he hadn’t…
but he had.
And that was Paula’s life and this was his.