i was off thursday-sun from my primary job and came back to find out happy vic, who works with me died of a heart attack. i always called him happy vic. the last time i talked to him was tuesday and he was sick that day and left work early. he had no family, was 56, and rented a room with no AC. what exactly is the point of life? i kept looking at vic's empty seat and wondered if he is better off now. no one at work seemed to care and everybody just went right on with work. vic often told me i was the only one who seemed to listen to him or care about his troubles. its a very sad day as i wonder why.