Worried Man is worried for reasonable reasons; he has been less than kind. Outside his window, a medium-sized animal is eating a small animal, while a large animal watches from behind the dumpster, biding its time. Worried Man understands he shouldn’t be snacking on heart-shaped chocolates as if they were almonds. He is not a child anymore, it is worrisome. It is a simple fact that his mother’s heart will cease to beat one day, and there will be subjects they never talked about. Such subjects blend into the mundane, like shy animals eluding scientists. Such scientists return home to their husbands, the odd sense of being watched by what they were unable to find haunting them, like an insect sucking blood from a thigh for hours, unnoticed. Worried Man’s skin gets itchy— not your standard itch. Worried Man’s experience of the world is a grey ...