The police quickly lost interest and were gone within minutes. I looked around my now quiet apartment and took a deep breath. In twenty-four hours, my life had completely changed. It wasn't so much the specific events, although they certainly jump-started the whole thing. It was more that for almost the first time, something exciting had happened in my life and I was embracing it. I just wasn't quite sure what to do with it all.

My cell phone buzzed. A text, and I knew who it was from without looking. It would be my boss asking when I was coming back in. Sure enough, it was. How about this, asshole, never. That's what I would have liked to respond. However, I had a little more class than that. Obviously not enough to actually give notice, though.

I responded, "A major personal situation has just come up that I have to take care of, and I'm afraid I have to make today my last day on the job. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The predicted obscenity-laden response appeared two minutes later. I'd have to remember to contact the HR department about payment for my vast amount of unused vacation time. I took a minute to send a group text to all of the employees under me—a more personal version of the text I sent my boss. I also let them know that I would contact them individually when time permitted. Somehow though, I knew I wouldn't. As of about 9:30 that morning, the job, and everything—and everyone—connected to it ceased to exist for me.

Mo knocked on my door and let herself in. I offered her a beer and we sat at my kitchen table, where I told her the whole story, leaving nothing out. I always found Mo easy to talk to, despite me being a little intimidated by her attractiveness and—more so—by her ability to break me in two. The funny thing about Mo was her job. One would think by looking at her that she ran a gym or a security agency. No, she was a second-grade teacher in the Boston Public School system. And, from what I heard, a pretty awesome teacher at that. I was glad that today was a holiday and she was home for me to talk to. I needed to bounce this off someone, and I didn't want to involve my mother any more than I already had.

"Shit," was her response to it all. "The good thing to come out of this is that you quit that fucking job. How long have I been telling you just to quit?"

"Well, you moved in six years ago. So, six years."

"You bet your ass."

"Do you talk like that in front of your second-graders?"

"Absolutely. It's a new plan I instituted. 'Swear word a day.' I've had great success with it. In truth, I'm so sweet there, if anyone—including the other teachers—heard me swear, I think they'd have a stroke."

"So you save it all for me."