I party hard. I know I do. Bottled, cut or rolled I will drink ’em, snort ’em or smoke ’em. Jen calls it falling into Grace. But then, her arm is already showing Track 13 and looking bloody. She likes euphemisms. She calls what she does to Kevin a Fistful of love in exchange for the slow graffiti that creeps across her most accessible veins.

Apparently, she doesn’t need Kevin to say anything nice to her – he’s better when he’s quiet, Like Dylan in the movies. I asked her, once, if those films had happy endings.

All day I’m working my arse off at the depots in our town, so we go out in Keasbey nights. Jen says, when it’s all you can afford, you should never turn down the opportunity for cheap thrills.