This discomfort is exhausting.
The fire won’t start.
Naturally, I blow on the embers, like every cool firestarter who knows exactly what they are doing…
Remember our shared cigarette? (Share is a strong word.) Maybe not. I probably asked you for another one. (That was you, right?) And who drank my rum and coke? Seriously. It was full just now… Yes, the designated driver is actually me. And no, I have a car full. And when I say car full, I mean theobviouslylegalnumberofaboutteninasedanofthiscalibre… Well, at this point, there is no one in the boot. I am kiddi… Really? Should I stop to check on you, you know, to see if you’re dead?
I am so glad you lived, by the way.