He’d hit the mattress with enough force to make it bounce like a ship on rough water. And if he’d been asked, John would have sworn he’d been asleep before the final, imagined wave had settled. It wasn’t until a hand to his left reached out and clasped his own, that John realised that he’d forgotten to take his meds. “Oh, f**k,” he whispered, as the voice of Sam, his ex, filled the cab of the 2008 Tahoe they’d both been so proud of buying. “I don’t know how we ever managed to live without seat warmers,” Sam purred, squeezing their fingers together. John lifted his eyes to the rear-view mirror. He spoke to himself, “Wake up and take your meds.” But the words came out, as they always did, “This traffic is ridiculous.”
“It’s a huge convention,” Sam shuffled deeper into his seat and settled h
