Like a Piece of Driftwood on the Sea...

In a seedy hotel room in Las Vegas, on the nightstand is an overfull ashtray with a dozen butts laying about like frat boys after a kegger. Also on the nightstand sits three empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to a bottle that's just been cracked.

The room is dark except for the neon glow of a sign which shines through a small crack in the curtains. The sound of the television is low.

Max Cube is lying on the bed, unshaven and holding a glass of jack on the rocks while a lit cigarette smolders away in his hands. He is watching but not watching television, his eyes focused on the images but not taking anything in. Like the stars in the sky they are far and distant.