The Last Thing I Need

Yannick stared blindly into his drink. It was his third scotch, actually, and he still was waiting for the numbness to kick in. But he was keenly aware of his surroundings, of who he was. The laughter. The clanking of cutlery. The colliding aromas of curry, bacon, and grease. Chase’s had become his favourite drinking spot over the past three weeks. Not because of the relatively cheap drinks or the somewhat tasty food. But because, except for the staff, no one knew or paid attention to him. Left...