Zero

Today is a new day, a new week. For many of us, it's a fresh start over, following the weekend. But for some, it's just another fucked up day reminding us of what we lost, what we gained and what we want but will never have. Such is life.

For my brother Bull, it's the second.

His dark grey eyes that once creased whenever he smiled, which used to be every fucking time, now pointed to the cemented basement floor as if it had all the fucking answers to why his life turned out so wrong.

Why did he lose the one thing he wanted for years, yet only got two months with? His dead wife, Nakita.

At 33 and 6 feet of solid muscle, not to mention the biggest guy in the club, including our Mother chapter in Houston, you’d think a man like him would've moved on, or at least found a woman to warm his bed.

But he doesn't touch any of the girls. They all offered, he just doesn't give a crap.

My eyes settle to what he does give a crap about, that's dangling from his hand, weed.