A nice end to the evening. . .
I'm trying to think of a good way to describe this. . .Carl's dog died that morning. A cherry red Mack truck deprived Rover's shallow grave of most of its due, and the crazy neighbor lady saturated what was left of man(more specifically, Carl)'s best friend with high proof urea. After the poorly attended service, Carl went into the freezer to find his pint of Chunky Monkey empty, with a comforting post-it from his roommate shoved inside promising to "cover the next one." Carl's mother called him that afternoon, wanting to give him some good news over an early dinner -- he was to meet her on the other side of town because she didn't feel like leaving strip mall where she attended water aerobics. An hour and a half later, Carl walked into a suburban Chile's to see her soggy head nestled between the brawny arms of his despised high school math tutor. "Kyle understands my needs much better than your father ever has. Don't you, Kyle? We met at zumba." Kyle and Carl's mother left the restaurant to get some air right before the check came. Carl paid and hightailed it to nowhere in particular. Needing a moment to process his day, he pulled off to pace across a lot simultaneously vacant and threatening. On his third pivot, his nose was greeted by a large flat fist, which then proceeded to introduce itself to his wallet, cell phone, and keys. As he propped himself up to watch his car speeding down the road to irretrievability, Carl couldn't help but say aloud to himself "Damn. Now that's a sunset."This was that kind of sunset.