Chapter 2I woke Jeff at three in the morning. Not on purpose, but because I practically fell on top of him while I weaved my way through the living room furniture to the bedroom. I was familiar with the apartment’s layout by then, but six beers can make the known a little hazy. However, that consumption paled in comparison to the half bottle of rye that Jeff had consumed. It was said rye that had him splayed out as he was, with his legs on the couch and his head and back on the floor. How the hell he’d ended up like that was open to interpretation. It was a small couch, so he might have thought the floor would be more comfortable. He could have tried to rise, slipped, and decided, f**k it. Perhaps, after half a bottle of booze, he began to believe he was a dog. He was a lightweight when it
