#brentmacey16

[hvlfwygod]

Ziggy’s head lifted as soon as Brent stumbled into the bedroom. He was curled in Macey’s empty spot and looked expectantly for her. But Brent was alone, and when he flopped on his bed the dog dropped his nose onto his paws again and sighed. “Hello to you, too,” Brent mumbled. He pulled Ziggy to him, the alcohol making his limbs a little clumsy. He was still drunk enough that just laying there was an experience, the room tilting and swaying ever so gently while he dozed on top of the covers. “Tomorrow morning,” he mumbled into Ziggy’s head. Brent drifted off for a few minutes, the memories of the night floating through his mind. Then Ziggy wriggled out of his arms and Brent forced himself to stand and strip. Everything else, though, he left for a Brent who was more sober. He crawled under the covers and passed out while Ziggy sprawled over the empty half of the bed.

When he returned to the land of the living, his body felt extra heavy, the mattress beneath him a soft, warm, black hole. His head was full of cotton, too. And when he lifted it, his neck was stiff and protested carrying the weight of his skull. Brent sighed and sank back down. It occurred to him a few minutes later to check the time, maybe Ziggy needed to go for a walk. But before he could think about it more, he was asleep again.