Chapter 8Nick sprawled on his lumpy, secondhand futon and stared at the television without a clue what was on. He yawned and stretched his arms overhead, wincing at the loud c***k from his spine.
So much for remembering to try those yoga stretches in the morning. Yet another week gone by with nothing but work behind him and more work ahead of him.
There was definitely a work/life balance lecture waiting for him the next time he spoke with his mother. Worse, she’d tell her mother. No one gave scoldings better than his yia-yia.
Nick looked around his apartment. Evidence of his long hours spread out from the futon in all directions like fallout from an explosion, and while he hadn’t yet gathered the courage to investigate, there was a weird smell coming from the kitchen. He’d better clean
