
by Pablo Harris
“Damn, man, you’re still here?”
“Hey.”
“Don’t you have a bed? A house? I know you do. Why don’t you try and visit it sometime? I mean, shit man, you know you’re welcome here but sometimes, I just want to open the door, come home from work, walk into my place, and not have this lazy fuck sleeping, crop-dusting on my couch. So you just been laying around, dropping ass in here all day? Open a window or something, man.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry.”
“Do you even remember last night?”
“Most I think. Not everything.”
“So, what do you remember?”