Gabriel
Raphael drove me to the half-way house. It had a bright yellow sign that said “Sunny Days Sober Living Center”, but everything else about the old apartment building was drab and tired from the white peeling pain to the sagging porch. There were some broken lawn chairs on the porch surrounding an upside down milk crate and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Right next to a black and red no-smoking sign.
Rafe put his hands on his hips and squinted up at the two story building. “You sure about this. We really don’t mind sharing the house with you…”
“Nah, this will be fine,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. It had to be fine, because my options were extremely limited. I pulled open the creaking screen door and knocked.
“There’s a doorbell,” Rafe pointed out, sett
