this morning #1509.
this morning, he’d woken up with a hell of a hangover. fully-clothed. out on his porch. dazed. disoriented. instead of reversing course, he opted to drink through the pain. grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge & sat back down in the same spot he’d occupied for most of the past day. waited for his neighbor to return. pistol by his side the entire time. next thing he knew, i was shaking him awake. no memory of the events that led to him passing out behind the couch. i got a pot of coffee going. shared what i had learned about his neighbors’ lack of a past. asked if he recalled any exchange where they’d spoke of their history. he just groaned. i could tell that he wasn’t going to help me crack the mystery. not today, at least.