I’m barely conscious of the plane ride home, teetering in and out of consciousness every so often. I nursed the bottle of alcohol that I’ve taken with me from the m******e and kept looking at my phone hoping that Miguel or Madeline would message me. But nothing comes through from either of them. Which is to be expected, I didn’t exactly leave Madeline on good terms so why would she want to message me?
Apart from yesterday when she told me the sound system needed to be fixed, I sent a message to Miguel to just go ahead and figure it out. I’m pretty sure he ended up getting a brand new sound system installed but I’m not mad.
The Wolf’s Den is open six days a week, we take Mondays off and although we could afford the profit loss from being closed for an extra day, I’d rather not do it. Peop
