Pursuit of Happiness
There was a man whose memories of happy moments could be counted on one hand. Food always tasted strangely to him; even his mother’s milk had been slightly off. As a child, he saw nothing pleasant in nature, full as it was of bumblebees, honking geese, and the heartbreaking loneliness of buzzing cicadas. Childish play was a daily exercise in humiliation, intimidation, and defeat. There was something under his bed. His parents loved him, no doubt, but his father frightened him and his mother carried a small tumbler from which she sipped; and as each day wound its uncertain way to...
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