Matt tried to stand but the world tilted and his stomach heaved. Had he eaten anything? He was about to find out.
The force of his vomit splashed back up in his face. He puked his stomach empty then wretched bile until he thought his esophagus might rupture. Pulling himself up on the bumper of a pickup he searched his pockets for car keys. He pressed the remote and heard the chirp from the Toyota in response. Another press and he located it by the flash of lights. A long way to crawl. He breathed deep. The night air would sober him up. He lifted his head. The rain would rinse his face clean. He’d sit here for a couple of minutes.
“Hey, asshole. Get the fuck off my truck.”
The worse thing for Matt about passing out was the momentary panic when he came too and wondered where he was and what he’d done. Like right then.
“You reek, man.”
“Sorry. Can’t find my car.”
“You don’t want to be driving, dude. You can barely walk.”
Matt still clutched the key remote. He must have only been gone for a few minutes. He pressed it and the SUV responded.
“Over there by the trees.”
“Thanks.” Head down he staggered in the direction of the car. Okay, got a little smashed on his homecoming, acceptable behavior considering the surroundings. No harm done, no apologies required, no amends to be made.
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