Memorial Day, 2001. Hung over. Dive-bombers unload on the insides of your skull. You are sitting on your couch appreciating little, and doing less. It is not yet noon and already a thin layer of sweat covers your body. Your face stings of bursting blood vessels. The agonizing knob on your right cheekbone feels like it's creeping toward the center of your forehead, up and over your eye. Your vision is fuzzy, making scrappy objects in your living room... More >>>