“Meh. You only live once, Sebastian. And I don’t think it will be that long for me. Let me enjoy my swamp beer. Can’t make my kidneys any worse than they already are.” Clyde has been on the transplant list for some time now—and it’s not looking good. As much as I grumble about the guy, the prospect of losing his annoying ass is more than I can take right now. I swallow hard and glance away. My eyes catch on his wheelchair in the corner. He’s gotten so weak that walking has become difficult. I can tell that he’s tired. For his sake, I try to stay positive.
