Welcome to

Let’s get this over with. A list. My life, in bullet points. As compiled by me, Kevin Miller, at age thirty-four, on a Tuesday that smells like wet concrete and regret.

Item One: Born to Diane and Frank Miller. Middle-class suburb. Dad left when I was seven. Not a dramatic exit—just packed a suitcase one Tuesday and said he was getting milk. The milk, apparently, was in Phoenix with a dental hygienist named Brenda. Mom started calling me “the man of the house.” I was seven. I didn’t want to be the man of anything.

Item Two: Asthmatic kid. Glasses thick enough to see the future, which unfortunately just showed me getting picked last for kickball. Spent recess in the library reading about starships. Fantasy was better. Fantasy didn’t have wind sprints.

Item Three: First kiss, Jenny Albers, age eighteen. Behind the bleachers. She tasted like grape Bubble Yum and, midway through, whispered, “Do you know what you’re doing?” I did not. She sighed, a small, disappointed sound I’ve spent two decades trying to forget.

Item Four: Got into a decent state college for computer science. Mom cried. First person in the family. Took out loans that felt like Monopoly money. They feel very real now. The interest multiplies while I sleep. I can hear it, a soft, relentless clicking in the walls.

Item Five: College. Learned to code. Didn’t learn to talk to people. My social circle was my roommate, Chad, who majored in business and minor-league alcoholism, and the various NPCs in the MMO I played nightly. My avatar had more meaningful relationships than I did.

Item Six: Graduation. The economy chose that year to have a nervous breakdown. Sent out two hundred and seventeen resumes. Got three interviews. One guy fell asleep while I was talking about database optimization.

Item Seven: First real job. Tech support for “CloudNine,” a company that mostly sold branded mousepads. My boss, Dave, had a motivational poster that read “TEAMWORK: Together Everyone Achieves More… Work.” He thought it was profound. I developed a twitch in my left eye.

Item Eight: Moved into the apartment I’m in now. Studio. Walls the color of old oatmeal. The shower makes a noise like a dying animal if you run it for more than six minutes. I timed it.

Item Nine: Tried online dating. Profile said I enjoyed “long walks and interesting conversations.” I enjoy sitting …