A noise woke me in the middle of the night. I lay in bed listening, wondering for a second if someone had broken in. I heard the sound of retching. It had to be Brendan. I couldn’t imagine someone would have broken into my house to puke. It went on and on for several minutes and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Being sick was never fun. It started again. The toilet flushed. There were a few minutes of silence and then it continued. I’d done my share of keeping an eye on friends in college after epic drinking, but this seemed excessive. I agonized for a while longer before deciding maybe I should check on him. I flipped on my bedroom light and walked toward the hall bathroom. The door was hanging open. Brendan had one arm braced on the rim and the other hand was pressed to one eye socket.
