Two days seemed to fly straight past me before my very eyes. Nothing changed in the two-day beat between my mum’s funeral and my first date ever which just so happened to be with Xian. Vistoc spent a lot of his time on the front porch writing in a green notepad, more often or not with a glass of whiskey on the floor by his feet and a cigarette in his mouth. Although I despised smoking, I couldn’t help but cast lingering glimpses out at him, for he reminded me of my father on a Sunday morning; he’d sit on the front porch with the newspaper, a mug of hot coffee and he’d smoke a cigarette or two. Even when it rained the entire day after my mother’s funeral, Vistoc was still sat out there, unfazed by the weather.
Dutch and Olly were more often or not chatting away on the sofa. Olly would say
