At the age of thirty-four, I am less bothered by the fact that I have to move back in with my parents than by the circumstances leading to the change.

I had already accomplished everything that I put my mind to, including playing on a championship basketball team, learning Spanish, and earning two degrees from Morehouse College in four years.

I even beat the odds upon graduating in 2002 by settling into a career with a major insurer that promised to pay six figures, a coup, considering the financial distress caused by the events of 9/11.
 

 
At twenty-eight, I relocated to Atlanta on a monthly salary in excess of $12,000. I purchased a townhome in the city, had $100,000 in my 401k, and a black-on-black 6 series convertible that I only drove on nice days.

Then I got a call from a friend who was as close as a brother. He had a woman on the line whose voice began to change my life.

What ensues, is unjust.