Worry walks in with two carry-ons and a bad attitude. It’s going to be a long weekend. Worry chain-smokes in the smoke-free area. He tosses his ciggie into my worst nightmare. It bursts into flames. Before I can pour cabernet on the fire, Worry cannonballs into the wine, drenching the judges. They give him a 10 for staining the carpet. Worry moves into the basement, to live amid the dark things that fester below – family migraines, bad hearts. He laughs and lights a match. I burst into flames.