I am at the breakfast table, trying to gobble up my food and remember something: anything about last night. How the f**k did I come back home? When did I get this drunk? I will call Dan or Chris and ask them. Maybe they dropped me home?
Mike comes and sits with me on the table.
"Hey, good morning," He smiles.
"Morning, Mike."
"Last night, good?"
"I wish I remembered," I wink at him.
"You look beat, Do you want something?" He asks after a moment of comfortable silence between us.
"My head will split into two any moment. But no, thanks, I can’t seem to get this glass of juice down my throat right now. Hey btw, do you know who got me home last night?" I ask him. Maybe he knows how did I come back home?
"Umm .. nope," there goes nothing.
I am still lost in my thoughts when out of
