Max sighed as he fell back into the sofa. His original intention had been to turn his TV on, but he was getting wise to the game of there never being anything worth watching. Endless repeats of old Sci-Fi programmes. A cookery show or two. He just didn't feel like being reduced to a coach potato for yet another evening. The real problem was that he never really got the opportunity to meet up with anyone. His last girlfriend, Natasha, had made sure he didn't get to see his friends while she and him were going out, and then she broke up with him. So there he was, broken hearted, friendless, and girlfriendless. It wasn't a particularly good way to be, but he'd kept his head down and carried on.
His options were a little limited. He headed for his alcohol cabinet and pulled out a half full bottle of whisky, before pouring himself a generous glass and putting some music on.
For some reason he suddenly felt compelled to examine the necklace again. It was still quite dirty, but even through the muck he could tell that the craftsmanship was superb. He felt sorry for whoever had lost it. (Because, why would anyone throw something so valuable away?)
Sipping at his drink he knew the evening could go one of two ways. He could either try to pick himself up and call his old friends in a vain effort to try and win them back, or he could mooch, and pout, and lament about Natasha, or older lovers, or all the days gone.
He of course knew which was more likely.