“I feel like a couple of old ladies, talking after being friends for 50 years,” I said laying on my back staring at the ceiling.“I hope you’re...not suggesting I dye my hair blue and start blurting out racial slurs,” He said rolling over to the edge of his bed and looking at me.“No, I’m just saying that I’ve never had a best friend, so this is nice to talk to someone.”“Well I’m glad,” He rolled off his bed and sat next to me. I sat up shoulder to shoulder with him.“I don’t have a best friend. But I can smell bacon.And that's probably what woke me up, 'cause my body's all twitchy but my brain is dead. I feel like a zombie. I lurch to my feet and stumble to the table, grabbing a hot rasher of bacon from the big plate that's sitting there. I chew on it automatically, my stomach rumbling in appreciation. It's another day. But I'm not awake yet. So I'll just enjoy the bacon until that happens. I reach out and take a sip of the orange juice that's been put in front of me, and it starts to. More

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