Home is bursting with life. I gravitate to the core of happy energy. A pool table has appeared in our kitchen. Geordie and Charlie are having a game of pool while Al sits sipping at what I assume to be an alcoholic beverage, watching their game. Lucy and Danny are half leant half sat on a unit making out, as they throw voddy down their necks. Youth hostel central. Even Charlie is relaxed tonight.
Volleys of arrows fly by my eyes. Al shops at the Black Market for weapons. I stride into the kitchen; grab hold of the back of his chair. He shrieks as I tilt his chair backwards until it’s balancing on two legs. “Don’t ever visit the Black Market again.”
“Why not?” Al gazes up at me, trying to keep his drink from sploshing over the rim.
“I forbid you.”
