Thirty-seven, unemployed, single, one cat, renting in the lousy part of town. This is the montage Leopold replays every morning before he leaves the house to apply for jobs. It used to be motivation for change, but now it’s a reliable force of unseen predictability – like gravity.

When Leopold had an income, working a decent construction gig, he went to an audiophile store in the fancy neighborhood and purchased a set of superb, circumaurel, noise-canceling headphones. The warmth they provide his ears extends to his heart and brain with the continuous evidence of a good acquisition. If he had money, Leopold thinks, he’d take the time to figure out more quality investments that would bring small slices of daily happiness. Unfortunately, Leopold also thinks, that lifestyle requires more money than he has and more forethought than he ever had.

He wishes he were hopeful enough to play the lottery, like his mom. However, the concept of luck – an abstract and wholly illogical notion, for sure – is not lost on him, and he believes he was born without any at all, like children who appear from the womb without eyes or legs.