He tried knocking at his brothers door. His phone was dead, and probably his brothers as well. The second part of the hangover anxiety had settled over him. He wanted to talk about it with someone.
He wanted to go back, or charge his phone so he could explain to Layla, he didn't just leave.
His mouth still tasted like vomit, and he could feel that his back was sweating.
"Fuck." He said again quieter.
He got in his car and turned the keys, half a tank.
He fumbled around his charger was probably in his bag, or did he even bring one.
"Fuck."
He decided to honk his horn outside his brothers house.
Nothing.
Then he decided just to drive away, drive back home, at least he knew the way, at least he'd make it.
He wanted to go back, or charge his phone so he could explain to Layla, he didn't just leave.
His mouth still tasted like vomit, and he could feel that his back was sweating.
"Fuck." He said again quieter.
He got in his car and turned the keys, half a tank.
He fumbled around his charger was probably in his bag, or did he even bring one.
"Fuck."
He decided to honk his horn outside his brothers house.
Nothing.
Then he decided just to drive away, drive back home, at least he knew the way, at least he'd make it.
