Blood and Muscle

Jack was thick between the ears but strong as an ox. He liked working out at the gym, looking at himself in the mirror and watching his muscles fill with blood and become larger before his eyes. It gave him a sense of relief, that perhaps he was made of more than fiction and air; that he was substantial and sure. His thoughts escaped him, what few he had. Then there was that nagging problem of paying the bills. So Jack had a job selling silverware at the department store. He wasn't very good at it, as you might guess. But mostly, women bought from him because he was good looking and could flirt better than any other salesperson in the department. Perhaps it was his lack of brains that gave him that ability. He didn't question his gift. He rarely questioned anything. Except why his mother had abandoned him with his grandparents and why at the age of 10 the priest had molested him. Those thoughts troubled him. So he worked out harder and harder, sweating more and more, making his brain fill with emptiness.