Richard

Mayaplucks a page from the tall stack of papers on the kitchen table and reads to herself while using her red pen to mark the page. Without any alcohol to artificially inflate my self-esteem, I’m left with a racing heart and an urge to escape before Maya notices me.

Not relying on vodka to numb your problems is a positive thing.

Yeah, except reducing my consumption always seems like a good idea until I’m faced with any kind of adversity.

Just go on and get this over with.

I tuck my thumbs into my front pockets. “Do you have a second?”

She looks up at me. “I’m a bit busy here grading papers.”

“On a Friday night? Riveting stuff.”

She shoots me a look. “Unless you’re here to admit defeatabout the house, don’t bother.”

“I prefer the termcompromise.”

“I’m sure that’s what all the losers say to make themselves…