On
reddit
he saw the news. Drunk driver kills two people. The cop they interviewed explained there was no planning to the crime, just chance. Vehicular manslaughter. The guy driving would still get a few years in prison ten at most. When he got out he would be 34 if that was him. 34 not a PhD or some kind of license just prisoner.
Peter pretended to be an interviewer.
"Can you explain this gap in your resume, where you weren't working?"
"I was in prison."
"...."
Damn unlucky man. Peter thought, for some reason feeling camaraderie, and then sorry for the guy. Sorry for himself.
"I'd never get caught like that. " He said again to no-one.
He thought about calling his sister. Calling her made him feel light years away from where he was. She was in New York. Really doing something. Not like him. Never left home, never did anything. He cracked a beer.
He'd always start with beer, or thats what was always on hand. You couldn't start with shots, that was too soon, too strong. Gotta make it feel like it was natural.
Sometimes when Peter got up he would tell himself.
"Okay Pete today, we don't drink."
Once and awhile he get it, some of the time he'd just drink beer, but other nights were worse.
