And who would even know? Who would miss him? Or mourn him? Emmett? Not likely. His co-workers? Hardly. He rolled his eyes at his foolishness. Not the best time to indulge in a bout of self-pity. Yet how had his life become so small? The answer popped into his head: by following the rules, by not taking chances. By being safe.
Well, wasn’t that funny? He’d been right all along, because the one time he’d tried for a little spontaneity, he’d ended up here. Not safe at all.
He shook his head to get the icy, dripping hair out of his face as well as to dispel his morbid thoughts. Holding the paddle like a jousting lance, his bloodless fingers gripped the wet wood. There it was. The pig was almost on him. If he could shove the thing just enough to shift it even a few inches, he’d be okay. It came into range, just a rosy blur through the rain. He thrust out with the paddle and connected.