The morning after
No one bothered with “Good morning!” in the Wilson Street share house. Instead,as on this day,they cut to the chase:“How’d you sleep?” A kind of inverse dick-measuring contest then ensued. “Horrible!” Lana croaked. “Had a broken five hours.” “Woke for a wee and the old brain clicked on. Four hours tops!” said Danny,Rasputin-eyed. Nessa,looking like she’d been raised by wolves,said she didn’t get any sleep. “I’d kill for a Temazepam,you know?” Oh,Lana and Danny knew all right,and for one sweet moment they rallied and bonded,the cruelties of the night forgotten. – Words by Paul Connolly. Illustration by Jim Pavlidis.