When Carol arrived, I was still standing by the window, staring out at the city. He didn’t say anything at first, nor did he make a move to announce his presence—I knew he was there, and he knew that I knew. After a moment, I turned around and sat on the sofa.
His first reaction was typical Carol: "Wow, you’re looking like s**t. Finally, I’m the better-looking one."
I knew he was trying to cheer me up, or at least distract me, but did he really need to keep reminding me that I’m not a 10-year-old Andreas anymore? He seriously needed to come up with some new material. The old tactics just weren’t cutting it.
glared at him, sending a clear signal: if you aren’t willing to shut up right now, then don’t bother begging later for your damned life. But, true to form, my not-so-smart friend cho
