I woke up on the bus, my head snapping upright, drool at the corner of my mouth. A dull headache was already forming as the world swam in front of me and I tried to work out where the hell I was.
I’d started the evening knowing a drink would end up like this, and yet here I was anyway. On the night bus with a crick in my neck, a mouth like an ashtray and busting for a piss.
There were mercifully few people with me, and we were spread evenly throughout the bus; a mathematical study in keeping one’s distance.
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Writing. Just like everyone else