We're back in the present, and Dylan had made quite a night of it... -----   Chapter 8. New York City, 2010 The black nothingness of death’s sleep slowly broke to the pounding of a fist on the door and the throbbing of Dylan’s head. He heard a click as the door to his studio apartment opened. With a groan, he rolled over, arm draping over the back of the couch and his face sinking deep into the plush white cushions. "Go away. And let me suffer in peace." "Doc Sacco said you’d be hung over," said the lanky, dark haired Latino [ Continue reading... ]