Raymond
Jake’s car rolls to a stop at the curb outside my building. The engine idles low while the streetlights paint everything in that cheap yellow glow. I push the door open and step out, the night air hitting my face harder than I expect.
“You good, man?” Jake asks, leaning across the passenger seat.
“Yeah. I just need water and a bed.” My voice comes out thicker than usual. Three drinks past comfortable, maybe four. The sidewalk tilts a little when I straighten up.
He laughs. “Call me if you puke on the carpet again.”
“f**k off.” I shut the door and watch him pull away. The taillights disappear around the corner and leave me alone with the quiet.
I dig for my keys while walking toward the glass doors of the lobby. The keycard sits in my back pocket under my phone. I tug it free,
