Jake takes me back to his place. He in an apartment above a small store he owns in a town that neighbors the city. As we step inside, he races around, trying to clean up, picking up clothes off the back of the sofa and cups that lie scattered around the place.
“Jake, it’s fine. Stop,” I tell him. I know Jake lives on his own, and sure, it’s the messiest I’ve seen his place. Yet I don’t care about that; he could live in a cardboard box for all I care. He is my friend and a good one at that.
“Sorry, I left as soon as I heard what happened. I didn’t have time to clean up,” he tells me with an armful of clothes.
I move toward the blue suede couch and take a seat before reaching for the remote that Alisha and I usually fight over when we’re here.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can run you a b
