Hunter got home from the Bookend and grabbed a drink out of the fridge. He couldn't believe how it had gone with Colin. He didn't know how it felt to be in love with someone and then they just leave you. Colin dated dozens of girls but admitted he'd never been in love. Suddenly, Hunter felt a twinge if guilt. Colin hadn't known; how could he have? As Hunter poured himself a shot, he thought of what he'd said to Colin. He shouldn't have taken his anger out on him. Hunter pulled out his phone and dialed Colin, and soon there was an answer. "Hey,"
"Colin, look; I shouldn't have exploded like that. It's not your fault, you know?" Hunter said.
Colin was silent for a moment, before inhaling sharply. "I know it's gotta be really hard for you. It's all cool," he said.
"Thanks, dude," Hunter said. They hung up and Hunter went into his music room and grabbed an acoustic and just started to play. He tried to at least. He couldn't figure out what was wrong, but playing music didn't give him the same energy it used to. It didn't fill him and fuel him. It made him feel even more empty. Like everything he used to have was just gone. He set down the guitar, then just stood there, looking out the window. His thoughts were interrupted by a beat up Prelude driving onto Tim's driveway. A young man got out of the driver's seat. He couldn't have been any older than seventeen. He was wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans, and some dark auburn hair fell over his forehead from underneath his hood. Tim was sitting on the deck again, and Hunter could see him talking to the young man. The teenager glared at him and said something back, and Hunter could tell there were a few four-lettered words in there. The teenager hopped onto the deck and entered the house, leaving Tim with a partially disgusted, partially saddened look on his face. Hunter actually felt sorry for him. That kid had obvious issues, and Tim was visibly clueless as to what to do about them. Hunter shook his head and moved away from the window, sitting down at the piano. He just sat there and stared at the keys, his hands in his lap. "What's wrong with me?" He asked nobody. Stupid question. He replied, this time silently. He sat there for a long time, just thinking about everything he'd done wrong. Eventually, he decided to sleep for a while. He'd only gotten six and a half hours of sleep, and even though he wasn't really tired, he needed something to do.

He awoke a little while later to his phone ringing. It was Sam, one of the guys from the band, wondering what was going on with Hunter. He had been pretty moody in the studio earlier that day. A prolonged conversation later, Sam was at least partially convinced that Hunter was okay. Only a minute or two after Sam had hung up, Colin called.
"You want to join me and some friends for dinner tomorrow?" He asked before Hunter even had a chance to say hello.
"Some friends?" Hunter inquired, wondering just who these friends were.
"Yeah," Colin replied.
"That's not an answer to my question."
"Sure it is. You asked for clarification that you had heard the words "some friends" correctly, and I responded to give you the aforementioned clarification." Colin replied. Hunter heard himself laugh involuntarily. Colin was impossible.
"I don't know, dude," Hunter said.
"Come on man, it'll be fun. You need to get out." Colin said.
"Now you sound like my mom."
"Come on bro, just say yes." Colin was almost begging now. Hunter rolled his eyes. He didn't want to go out any time soon, but he knew Colin wasn't going to give up. "Fine." He said. After Hunter agreed to dinner, they said goodbye and Colin hung up. Hunter got the feeling there was some kind of idea in that guy's head, but he couldn't pin down just what it was. Anything involving Colin was hard to pin down. After hanging up, Hunter shoved a hand over his hair. This whole dinner thing wasn't going to help his stress levels. Hunter sat down on the couch and clicked on the tv. He browsed through Netflix for a few moments before clicking it right back off again. There wasn't a good show on there that didn't remind him of Hailey. Stranger Things made him think of how she'd squeeze his hand whenever there was a suspenseful scene. Friends made him think of all the times Hailey would complain about watching ever season over and over again but always agreed to watch it anyway and still laughed in all the right places. Hunter felt his eyes sting at the thought of Hailey. He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry. He sat there for a few moments like that until his jaw hurt. He hated himself and his life. He hated how even music didn't give him any comfort. Nothing did. Eventually, he couldn't keep it in anymore. He cried again, but not like he had before. It was an angry cry. A regretful cry. He cried for a while before trying to play his guitar again. He had finished tuning it and then set it back on its stand. He leaned against the wall, inhaling sharply as he felt tears welling up again. He yelled and kicked the wall behind him, hurting his heel in the process. He didn't care-it felt good to let out his anger. A sad kind of good. Pitiful. He was pitiful. That's why he was alone. He sunk to the floor and cried again. He hated crying. It made his head hurt. There was a sharp void in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. He was overcome with pain and emptiness. He cried there for hours, on the floor in his music room. Eventually, he wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, even though he wasn't hungry at all. He grabbed a scotch and poured himself a single shot, downing it quickly and taking another. He went into the living room and dropped onto the couch. He was exhausted, but at the same time, not tired at all. It was already three. He tried to sleep for a while, there on the couch, but eventually gave up. He wanted to take a walk. He needed air. It was cold, a half-moon lit the night, along with a few random stars spattered across the blackness of the sky. Hunter shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets. He hadn't even taken a jacket on his way out. He just walked, not sure where he was going. He ended up at a nearby park, sitting on one of the swings. He couldn't imagine how weird it must have looked; a grown man on a child's swing set with a tear-stained face and dark lines under his eyes. He didn't care enough to go back home though. He sat there for a long long time, shivering and thinking. It was so cold, but he didn't really care. It was strangely refreshing. It cleared his mind a little. Maybe he wasn't a failure in every way, maybe he'd make it out of this. As he sat there, he felt a little speck of hope start to form. He was starting to feel a bit better when his thoughts wandered back to how the day had gone. The hope faded just as quickly as it had shown its face. By now it was four forty. Hunter had glanced at his watch, but could barely make out the time with only the dim light of a nearby streetlamp. He started towards home again, even though he just wanted to keep sitting there. He could barely keep his eyes open by the time he got home. He collapsed in bed a short time later. Despite how exhausted he was, he spent the next hour or so twisting and turning.

Hunter woke up the next morning to the sun glaring against his face. He'd forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. His watch told him it was already a quarter after ten, so he got out of bed. He found his way down to the kitchen. He was starving and made himself a bowl of cereal. Coffee. It had been too long since his last coffee. A moment later the espresso machine was running. After his breakfast, he felt a little better than he had last night. The espresso had definitely helped wake him up. He felt good enough to go outside and take a look at his backyard-he hadn't really paid that much attention to it when he'd moved in. It was pretty small, but bigger than the one he'd had in the previous house. The grass was overgrown by now, with dandelions and weeds poking out everywhere.
"I should mow," Hunter said aloud without thinking. Shoot, I don't have a mower. He thought. Then his next-door neighbor crossed his mind. Tim's lawn was extremely well taken care of, maybe he had a mower Hunter could rent. After a little more thought, Hunter decided to ask. He approached the front door and gave a brisk knock, a moment later, the young man opened it.
"Uh, hey, is Tim home?" Hunter asked. His voice cracked slightly. The sight of this teenager glaring down at him made him slightly nervous. The young man was at least two inches taller than Hunter. His eyes were filled with an expression of hatred towards the entire world, and he had music blaring from his earbuds. Hunter wondered how he'd heard the question with his music turned so loud but then noticed he only had one earbud in while the other hung idly against his shirt.
"Tim, the door's for you," the young man turned to call into the house.
"I'm Hunter." Hunter reached out for a handshake. The teen just stared at it for a moment. "I know who you are." He said, deadpan. Hunter was taken aback slightly. Thankfully, Tim appeared a second later.
"Rhys, why didn't you ask Hunter inside?" Tim asked the young man. Rhys shoved his other earbud in and disappeared upstairs without answering the question.
"Sorry about my nephew," Tim said. "Come on in," he added. Hunter stepped inside, glancing around at the house as he did. It was decently clean, with heavily used sofas occupying the room to the left of the entryway and a whitewashed kitchen to the right.
"I was just wondering if you had a mower I could rent, the yards a mess," Hunter said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he spoke.
"Oh yes of course! I have a nice little ride-on Deere in great condition. I'd be more than happy to lend it to you," Tim smiled. Hunter gave half a smile in return, feeling kind of awkward and out of place in his neighbor's house.
"Come on to the backyard and I'll get 'er out for you."
Hunter followed Tim through the house to the back door. He noticed the entire house was pretty neat, aside from the odd article of clothing or soda can here and there. They got to the backyard and Tim opened the shed door to reveal the little ride-on mower.
Just then, there was a ring from inside the house. Tim glanced up. "I'll go get that. She's all yours." He told Hunter before limping back up to the house. Hunter looked at the mower. "Hello Deere," he said and then gave a halfhearted chuckle to his little reference. The mower started with ease and soon Hunter had it over on his yard. The grass was soon cut and Hunter felt somehow lighter. As if it was rewarding to have the job done. Or maybe the thought of having done something productive made the little speck of hope from the previous night reappear, at least for a moment.

Hunter returned the mower to Tim and asked how much he owed for the rental.
"Please. I don't take money for lending a hand. God blessed me by providing the opportunity to share something he gave me." Came the reply. That almost made Hunter smile. It reminded him of something his dad would have told him when he was a little boy.
"Well then, if you ever need me to lend a hand with anything, I'd be glad to do it," Hunter told him. Tim smiled, making his entire face light up. "I sure will do that." He replied. They ended up standing in Tim's porch for a while longer, talking about lawn mowers of all things. Hunter looked at his watch. It was already three. How has he been talking to Tim that long? He said his goodbye and headed home. His visit with the kindly older man had helped clear his thoughts for a moment or two, but as soon as he remembered the dinner he had to go to, his stress was cranked up to one hundred once again. He just hoped he could put his brave face on long enough to fool Colin.