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London“I want to reach into the computer and hug him—my wounded, brave, sexy warrior.”
—London Wright
The red digital numbers on my bedside table shine brightly in the dark room. Noon. Wow, I was out.
It seems like a minute has passed since my head hit my pillow at three a.m. Paige and I went out last night to celebrate a new account she was given at work. Apparently, it’s a hugely successful client and a detailed project for them to give to someone who’s only been with the company for several months.
I don’t understand all of Paige’s marketing lingo, but the bottom line was that it called for a celebration. The Friday night bar scene in Ann Arbor didn’t let us down, and I actually feel pretty good for how much I drank.
I roll out of bed and pull open my dark curtains to let in so
