“That’s it, folks. Perfect timing. We’ll pick up there next week.” Right now, the games were on Tuesday nights because that worked best for everyone’s schedules. Sometimes they had to change the day, usually to accommodate Darryl or Kyle.
He made a note in his spiral notebook where they’d left off and started packing his things. Because he was still working on the campaign at home to stay far enough ahead of them, he was taking his stuff home every week. Now that they permanently played here, at Grant, Darryl, and Susie’s house, everyone usually left their game gear behind each week rather than hauling it around. It was a really nice set-up, because they had a dedicated game room with a large table and could leave the combat mat and figurines in place.
Even better, once Susie had her baby in a few months, they wouldn’t have to drop out of gaming, because the game was held there.
After bidding everyone good night, he headed for his car, his stomach growling in protest for the delay. He’d been running late tonight and went to gaming straight from work, meaning he hadn’t had time to grab dinner.
Dammit, now I want sushi.
But he knew Publix would be closed, and he didn’t feel like going out of his way and hunting around Sarasota for a sushi place that might be open. Instead, he stopped by a Subway on the way home and grabbed a turkey sub.
He hauled his laptop bag and the messenger bag holding his D&D stuff inside and dumped it all on the couch. Then he turned on the TV before continuing to the kitchen. There, he poured himself a glass of iced tea and ate his sandwich while standing at the sink.
As he did, he looked around his house.
Empty house.
Empty-feeling.
Maybe I need to get another dog.
When Baker died two years ago, he hadn’t had the heart to get another dog. And then…
His heart had felt like it’d shriveled up and died.
He had friends, yes. Tonight was proof of that. And people from work he sometimes had dinner with.
He worked, had D&D, and came home, mostly.
When was the last time he’d dated?
That would be a little over two years ago, not long before Baker died.
Then again, after the way his ex-wife had taken a cheese grater to his heart and then poured rubbing alcohol over the remains, was it any wonder he didn’t have the energy to even try to date?
Maybe I’m depressed.
He’d considered talking to a doctor about it, but he wasn’t sure if it was something clinical, or more him being lazy and no longer willing to keep putting himself out there to try.
Maybe that’s why I need to talk to a doctor, duh.
When he finished he cleaned up after himself and stood there for a moment trying to decide what to do. If he tried to go to bed this early, he’d only lie there and stare at the ceiling.
If he got involved in doing some project, he’d likely be up late to complete it.
He didn’t even feel like looking up some porn and masturbating.
Hell, how long’s it been since I masturbated?
He realized he couldn’t even remember.
Months, easily. At least.
Shit.
He took a deep breath.Okay, Idefinitelyneed to talk to my doctor.
* * * *
