All of his hair’s gone now, along with his wife and children. In fact the only thing gained in the past couple of years is a few inches around his stomach and a love for whiskey. Where he lives in is no longer really a home but a place strewn with bad memories in which he exists. In the corner of the room is a stack of magazines with obscure and obscene names standing almost as tall as him. In the middle, a mattress stained with a peculiar yellowy brown colour.

His name is Simon, he stands at the mirror which is speckled and smeared with what appears to be dirt. He raises his eyebrows and smiles a crooked grin which he immediately begrudges himself. After letting out a long sigh he rubs a sponge in white make up and starts the menial job of applying it to his face. “Black lip stick today or red?”

A gentle tapping comes from the front door, after mustering up the motivation to answer he walks over and opens it. “Hello sir!” A small man stands in a suit staring up at Simon before bursting out in laughter.