It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to be comfortable on the way home, not half drunk on crummy, burning mouthwash and crying.

“Such a slacker, she said” he whispered, arm draped over his eyes, mouthwash spilled on the ground around him. His face was strained with tears. It was sad to see. He was usually so happy- optimistic. But he’d lost hope, now a wreck in the cargo bay of the Tulpar.