MY GRANDFATHER’S NOT at home when I get there, but there’s a note scratched in pen on the back of a receipt and stuck to the fridge with an I ♥ CHIHUAHUAS magnet.
Gone to Carney for a few days.
Call me when you get in.
I stare at the note, trying to decipher what it means, but I can’t quite think beyond the fact that there won’t be a car for me to borrow tomorrow. I stumble upstairs, set the alarm on my phone, push a chair up against the door, and chew up another handful of aspirin. I don’t even bother kicking off my shoes or getting under the covers; I just smother my face in the pillow and drop down into sleep like a dead man finally returning to his grave.
For a moment after my alarm goes off and I’m jolted awake, I don’t know where I am. I look around the bedroom that I slept in wh
