Chapter 130: The Drunken Master

Miguel's vision is spinning, as though he's on an aircraft on a tailspin to nowhere. His brain is swimming in a shitload of single malt whisky; his body seems on autopilot, and yet he couldn't control it. He feels, in the dimness of whatever control he had, that if he crosses the road to The Residence, a car would hit him and he would die. He also feels like he doesn't care; he's nothing, anyway.