Montez's room was a disaster.
Pizza boxes stacked in the corner. Some still had half-eaten slices inside that had been sitting there for days, beer cans lined the floor like a minefield and video game cases scattered everywhere.
Most of them still had the discs inside because he couldn't be bothered to put them away properly.
And there way tissues. Way too many tissues.
The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. The only glow came from the laptop sitting on his bed.
Montez shuffled across the room in his underwear and socks, scratching his stomach.
He grabbed the laptop and dropped onto the mattress, pulling a blanket over himself. He positioned the screen directly in front of his face and opened an incognito tab.
"You know what's worse than a gooner?" he said to the empty room. "A guy who's proud of being a gooner."
He typed in the URL from muscle memory. Clicked through three different pop-ups before finding the video he'd bookmarked last week.
