Justin had always believed that life was meant to be devoured, not measured. At 56, he still lived like a man with nothing to lose. The sun, the music, the late-night haze of Ibiza wrapped around him like an old friend. He waited tables by day and danced by moonlight.
Rules had never meant much to him. Settling down, paying a mortgage, raising children—those were cages other people built for themselves. Justin had floated through cities, countries, decades, on a cloud of parties and powdered nights. He wore his freedom like a badge. But lately, it had begun to fray.