"Fuck!" Jim yelled to himself after slamming his apartment door shut. He just lost his job at the auto shop. He could feel himself getting more and more stressed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair. He didn't even have that much money saved up in his bank account; he wouldn't last long unemployed.
Jim began quickly walking towards his kitchen. He almost tripped on all the clothes that were still strewn out on the floor. He habitually yanked the refrigerator door open, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap in one familiar set of motions.
He took it back over with him to his crummy little cou