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304 pages, Paperback
First published June 9, 2015
I prefer to think of myself as a blunt instrument. Point me at a job—find people, find things, transport stuff, look disagreeable—I get it done, and I accept money upon completion. Sometimes I accept alcohol or drugs because I’m comfortable operating on a barter system.
Sharp crack and I’m awake.
Whiskey-colored sunlight spills across my fingertips. There’s a white wall and a crumpled blue bed sheet in front of me. A boot is pressing my face into the hardwood floor.
After a few moments, I realize that’s just the hangover.