001-Prolouge.txt

001-Prologue.txt

An event or action that leads to another event or situation.

You know that feeling you get in your stomach, like you just dropped down a roller coaster? The kind where your balls travel up your throat or out your ass? That's the feeling you get after you've been pulled over. Day turns night. If a break-up is cocaine, getting pulled over is baking soda and a spoon.

Sarah was a green eyed beauty. She had one of those pleasant faces. The type that automatically makes your facial muscles twitch into a smile. Her personality was that sensation when you take a shot of your favorite liquor. It warms your chest and radiates outward. Sarah was Pendleton 1910. I hadn't originally been attracted to her, but she grew on me. We both had our life in order. I had helped build up her business. I was always computer savvy. So reverse-engineering Googles local place algorithm to boost her business to the top took minimal effort. It was a simple matter of doing enough submissions to local directories, building a good website with quality content, and incentivizing her existing customer-base to write positive reviews on Yelp and Google Local.

Tap-tap.

"Roll down your window" said the officer.

At this point I knew the 2600 square foot house, with 5 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, that I had just put an offer on wasn't happening. Sarah never believed that I would go to jail for months. She was the eternal optimist, I am the eternal  pessimist. Things never went as bad as I thought or as easy as she thought. I guess the pendulum always settles in the middle. Eleven months later the pendulum would swing me into jail.

I tend to create self-fulfilling prophecies. I push things in directions I don't want them to go. I am the scorpion on the foxes back. When I called it off with Sarah, I only did it because I wanted to see pain in those green eyes of hers. I wanted to see tears swell in the edges, lips to quiver, and the floor drop from under. I had that power. I wanted her to finally feel what I was feeling. Of course she never would. I certainly made her feel terrible, but she would never catch up to me.

"But we can still work things out, right?" said a confused Sarah.

Flipping a bit to zero I responded. "No, we're done. Its over."

I instantly regretted my actions. But I wouldn't let those feelings get in the way of my sense of duty. I had a mission to complete, honor was at stake here. Collateral damage, civilian casualties, those are just a part of war. Crippled and broken, I would wear this purple heart with pride.

A bonafide war criminal now, I decided to buy an RV and explore the country. There was nothing left for me here. Me and my German Shepherd cohort Brooklyn would travel, with fate as our guide. Tech people have to put a name on everything: Web 2.0, Rockstar, 10x Developer, Ninja, and Guru. They call this lifestyle a "Digital Nomad." I think I am more of a Digital Drifter, but whatever. Ultimately it may be just another personal mind fuck to further isolate myself from an already depleting circle of friends.