Christopher Bloom grew up in the kind of life where you learn to appreciate the little things because the big ones are rarely in your favor. Raised in a lower-class household, he understood struggle early. Bills were paid just late enough to keep the lights on, and dinners were stretched a little thinner than they should be. But he also knew it could be worse. He’s seen worse. His life wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t tragic either, and he never let himself fall into the trap of thinking the world owed him more than what he could take for himself.

As he got older, Chris found his own ways to get by. He ran small-time jobs, moved things for people who needed things moved, no questions asked. Eventually, that bled into low-key dealing, not enough to make him rich, just enough to stay comfortable. He doesn’t love the work, but it’s familiar, easy, and keeps him out of worse trouble. He’s never been the paranoid type, never needed to watch his back too hard, and he figures that means he’s doing something right. Every so often, though, he catches himself wondering if things could shake out differently. Not just for him, but for people like him. It’s not something he dwells on, but the thought lingers, waiting for a reason to stick.

Now, at 26, he lives in a modest apartment in Fairmont, West Virginia, with his two dogs. His own space is carved out in a world that never made room for him. He doesn’t ask for much, just a cigarette, a quiet moment, and the ability to keep moving forward. He’s not a saint, but he’s not a villain either. Just a guy doing what he can, getting by one day at a time.