Saturday morning, Grey and Davie did laundry. While they waited for the washer to run its course, they checked out what was available in the room where used clothes were stored for anyone who needed them.
“These are so not you,” Grey said with a grin as he dug through a pile on one of the tables. He handed Davie two pair of sweatpants that would have fit someone half-again his size. Davie eyed them, tempted to put them back on the table before thinking better of it. Not me, or at least not the ‘me’ anyone would remember, which is what I’m supposed to be going for. On another table, he found a sweatshirt and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days. He had the feeling they’d belonged to one of the other guys, who had traded them in for something more presentable.
He’d always worn sne
