His life had become a series of near misses. Glimmers of success only to turn to dust. Not sure if it was a sign of poor intellect or simply bad luck, he was struck down only to get up and persist. But persisting in the grueling monotony, on the ragged edge of tragedy. He could taste it and it was bitter. Good enough to endure but not succeed. Good enough but not great. Enough but never more. The floor barely able to support him, he'd stumble for the door, but the door remained jammed and denied him passage. Tug as he might it never opened. Intellect or luck? Neither applied.
V
