By midnight I was slumped low in my seat, a shot glass in one hand and a beer in the other because, fuck it, why not? Why go home now, miss out on the rare opportunity for a little fun? What, was there some rule now against me letting my hair down every once in a while? I put these questions, slurred these questions, to the room, mumbled angrily when I got no answer. A moment later, Sharon was by my side. ‘I think it’s time you thought about going home, James.’ I laughed loudly then. ‘Home, James!’ I said. ‘Ha! You’re funny.’ Sharon looked at me, confused. ‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘You know,
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