Aw fuck it." Hestaggered up to his room, and slammed the door. "Alan... wait...", called Janine, but she thought the better of it.He was drunk. ...robably best to let him sleep it off. * * * * The next morning Alan was very cold. Janine tried to talk anumber of times over breakfast, but Alan only muttered monsyllabicanswers. He eventually picked up his coffee, took the paper, and satin the front room. When Janine called 'goodbye' as she left for workshe. I sit up groggily in the shitty cot my step-dad set up for me in the garage, smirking as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, thank god we live in Miami, eh?My few meagre belongings were tucked under a military-esque pop up cot, squared away in my patrol bag, a few more in the trunk of my 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 302. Even in the dim light it’s matte blue paint with white racing stripe finish gleams, spotless. My most prized possession.I didn’t own much, mostly because I rarely came home, in the 6. More

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