“I can always talk to you, Lola,” he slurred, but not too badly. I am inclined to view him as more of a sloppy drunk than he is/was. “Yes, you can talk, Paco” I said flatly, hoping he would pick up on the faint note of hostility. He didn’t.
I know that the 30’s are generally regarded as too early for a midlife crisis but there must be some word for what I see morning after morning. There’s quarter-life crises so perhaps those just sort of extend for some people into sagas of crises.
He’s an orphan too, I thought. At least he has more substantial claims to the whole ‘I’m sad and alone bit’ than most. Than the rest.