The party that night was fun. I’ve developed a habit of staying up until the break of dawn with the boys. There were fireworks of Illegal quality, ducks (I’m serious Sullivan’s family has pet ducks) a pack of seven little yapping dogs who bite and snap at your ankles anytime you walk across the living room floor, smoked deer meat, beer, sparklers, meat loaf baked into zucchini, and an orange cay named Tommy.
“He’s not a rockstar he’s an astrophysicist.”
I saw him walk into McDonald’s slowly taking off his motorcycle helmet in slow motion to soft music playing and a light breeze wafting through his hair.