Yesterday. Ah.

My brother was moving out. At least that was the theory. The reality was that he was asleep on the couch. I accidentally knocked over some beer cans while I was reaching for my coffee. My coffee pot is in my living room due to size issues relating to my kitchen. So is my fridge, there’s one in the kitchen too. But I digress. I knocked over some beer cans and Pete woke up.

He looked at his watch and exclaimed, “Oh I’m late.”
“What time were you supposed to be there?” I enquired quietly in case his head was hurting.

I moved away as a flurry of activity looked imminent. He started throwing cloes into a box. Then grabbed the car keys. “I’m going to start loading the car.”
He looked confused.
“Ok,” I encouraged.
“Right.” And with that he went, box in hand.
About two minutes later my telephone rang.
“Hello?” It was him.
“Hi! I decided to leave. I’m driving to Brighton.”
“I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye then.”
“Yeah. And there’s a frozen chicken under my bed. You better eat it.” And with that he hung up.

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