In another life, he was well heeled and healthy. He had a career, friends and a sense of direction, holidayed, regularly, in fashionable resorts where people recognized him, waved and said hello, anxious to be known of his acquaintance.
As it was, life wasn’t too bad, at least, that’s how he saw it. He was writing and felt engaged. His health was as good as he could expect, he looked after himself and, apart from a very slight weight problem, he was in fine fettle.
He had friends who greeted him daily as he took his walk to the shops. He exchanged chit chat with the shop keepers and laughed at their jokes. He took his medicine and ate well and his new lease gave him security for the immediate future.
That’s why he resented his mind straying to that other life of sunshine and Hawaiian shirts. Sometimes he even wondered if the guy in that life was really happy, not like him, for sure. Because he’s a superhero, He’s Irony Man.