Charley lost hope when finishing his day alone. He grew morose, sluggishly numbing himself with scotch and quietly slipping into slumber. Night brought torment and terror, fear of needing help that never arrived. Morning loomed darker dimmer dawning slowly knowing his fears unfounded. Murkiness yielded to doing his daily therapies.

Charley spent the morning trying to make contact within the neural network. Some sporadic success surfaced. Lunch torched his dream, drooled out with mousse he wanted to swallow. Soon the urge to go to the office returned. Then Charley began his process of signing over money from unsuspecting women to his growing portfolio.

His investments would always be there, long after these women lost interest in Charley. He thought of making money a substitute for making friends. The right moment when he opened the mail made him almost believe it. Charley longed for love, for life, for limitless leeching. Someday he would have it all but for now he dreamed of Abby and served himself another.

The end.