ROBERT POV
I woke up at 1:07 PM with one eye glued shut and a very real desire to punch the sun. Or whoever decided that curtains didn’t need to be blackout if you lived in the middle of freaking nowhere in Canada.
Note to self: Buy new curtains. Possibly napalm-proof.
Stretching with the enthusiasm of a dead raccoon, I rolled out of the couch and landed directly on a suspiciously cold floor. Fantastic. I must’ve crushed there mid-coma.
The joys of patrolling until 4:30 in the morning: everything hurts, you smell like pine trees and despair, and if your twin made coffee, it’s already ice cold.
Rett was gone—again. Probably off doing something productive like not sleeping through his entire day. Good for him. Gold star.
Me? I had a date with the punching bag in the gym. And maybe, jus
