It was at my friend’s house. He’d invited us over for a few drinks so we went. The party had dwindled down to just four of us and because we were ... bit drunk, my friend had made up the guest beds for us to use. I’d already staggered off to my appointed room and was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and deciding that wine possibly wasn’t as horrible as I thought. Given that between three of us we’d had four bottles and under usual circumstances, I wouldn’t have even touched a glass. It. “Hey, Sleepy Head.” He replied in return, not looking up from his paper.“You want some breakfast?”“No, unlike some of us here, I am not grown so I went to bed at a relatively decent hour and was able to get up at a reasonable hour and made my own breakfast. A nigga would starve waiting for you to get up on a Saturday morning.” He laughed.I laughed as well, and followed with the lame retort, “Fuck you!”I reached in the refrigerator for the orange juice when it struck me. This morning felt like. More

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