“Hello?” Silence. My heels clicked along the hall to the living room, where I found him, leaning back into the middle of the couch, blinds closed,...lights dimmed, cigarette in hand, his legs stretched out next to a small table that held a fat glass tumbler, half full of a clear liquid which I guessed would be vodka rather than water. He turned his head to regard me as I approached the doorway. His face betrayed no emotion. He was still in his work clothes, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice it, but I definitely did. There’s a kind of intimacy in it.“For real though,” I arched to look up at him which pressed my chest against his body, “you’re taking your own free time and spending it on some lame girl. You teach me stuff and pay attention to me and ... and it’s nice.”“Oh, I see, you’re one of them lovey drunks.”“I’m not drunk.”“Some people, they drink, they get to fightin’. Others, you get a few in ‘em and they get deep and thoughtful. Then you. More

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