He was taking a long-needed piss.
He watched himself in the mirror over the toilet and it looked like his eyes were on fire. Really fucked from the neck up. Bad skin, and it had never been good. So what? He still wore the new suit and tie, and, from the neck down, it looked like somebody else. He flushed, un-noosed the tie, opened the goddam collar and threw the jacket in the tub. The first thing he’d done returning to the trailer was turn on the TV. It ran like a hamster wheel in the front room. He stepped from the bathroom, bounced off the hall wall and aimed at the kitchen. The whiskey. Dad died.