Reading progress update: I've read 1%.
Sam hung up the phone and heaved a sigh. He really didn’t want to go. It had been a shit day at work. Dealing with death every day gave him a certain slanted perception on life, but today was particularly bad. His sweatpants, a box of those fake chocolate cupcakes with the curlicue icing, and a DVR filled with hours upon hours of Game of Thrones episodes beckoned him. The thought of having to go out into the cold, then put on a friendly face and make small talk with people he didn’t know sounded like the worst kind of torture.
Sounds like someone else I know. :D
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