RefillMyTravelMug

He tips his head back, draining the last of the coffee from the mug, and drops it into the sink. Moving toward the door, he leans over and leaves a small note: "I'm taking the truck. See you at lunch." He and Gregg tried to eat lunch together, if only to make sure that the other as alive. Taping the note to the door, he grabs his backpack and walks out the door, locking it behind him. Ronny makes his way over to the truck, a late model Ford truck form the 80s with a healthy layer of rust, and climbs into the driver's seat. It takes a moment for the engine to turn over, but once it has it roars to life, idling at an elevated rumble. Ronny pet

"Well, you better get yourself on home before it gets too late for you to go to school." Charlene always reminds Ronny about the importance of schooling, having to deal with being a drop-out herself. She never seems to have to time to earn her GED, but she knows that she'll get to it eventually. "If you don't get yourself into a nice college and out of this dump, I'll just have to kick your ass!" Ronny lets out a quiet chuckle, not wanting Char to know that he found her threat funny, and calls out his last Good night!'s. He straddles his bike, making sure not to lean too far to one side, and kicks the engine to life. The bike rumbles to lif

The bar slowly empties; the energy of the place dying like it did every night. Just as the last few drunks are being walked out the front doors, Jared tells Ronny that it's time to go home. "You sure you don't want any help closing?" "Get th'fuck outta here," Jared pretends to snarl, "'fore I call your ol' man an' let 'im know what ya do ever' night." Even knowing that it's a joke, the threat puts Ronny a bit on edge. His father. There was no way that he could know what was going on, having been deluded into thinking that his oldest boy did something respectable, like work at the mall or at a fast food joint. Never the bar. That's that las

"Hey, Ronny! You wanna give me another three?" He pours the shot without thinking, knowing exactly who's talking, and walks over to George. With a slight glint in his eye, George calls over before Ronny can take two steps, "Actually, make it four." Ronny does as he's asked and pours the extra shot and make his way over. He leans against the bar, face only a few inches from the side of George's, and smiles when George pushes two of the shots his way. "You got school tomorrow?" "Yeah," Ronny answers with a great gusting sigh. George glances over at Ronny, giving a mischievous smirk, "Well, may as well get so fucked up that you can go through

He just stands in front of the fridge, door still hanging open, and thinks for a moment. It's not he's the first guy to hit on me. I mean, that's basically pat of the job. If you're not up for strangers getting' handsy and flirty with you, then you don't belong at a fuckin' bar. A slight flush paints his cheeks as he bends back over to grab a small container from one of the shelves and pulls it open. Leftover pasta. He plucks a fork from the little cup siting on the fridge and starts eating the cold pasta. He leans against a wall, still eating, and wishes he had a beer. Where have I seen that guy before? His face looks like one I've seen bef

An alarm chirps from the nightstand table. A thin arm slowly tunnels its way from beneath a pillow, skimming along the table top before flipping the switch that would bring silence into the small room. With a groan, a man rolls out of bed and stumbles down the hall and into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, Ronny is greeted with a large amount of puff (no doubt caused by his having gone to bed with soaking wet hair,) and some smudges around his eyes. "That's gonna be a bitch to deal with," he mumbles to nobody in particular. He slips a hand through his hair a few times before giving up; resigning himself to having to go with work with his