SUMMER OF ‘95
The blaring alarm shattered my sleep. I groaned and cracked my greasy eyes open wondering when five-thirty in the morning had gotten so damned bright. I pulled the pillow over my aching head and tried to figure out a way of not going into work. The night before I had gone out drinking at Shy’s with Scott and Justine for their anniversary and had overindulged. Yesterday, my boss, Gregg, had asked me for five more names for layoffs and it was easy to drink more than I should have. God, I hated my job.