You do not know how you got here. Perhaps it was one too
many drinks too quickly and the hotel lobby grew blurry to lose you. Perhaps
you wanted to get lost, get away from the plots of red drinks or philandering
manufactured by your partner's folks. Either way, you needed to be here,
vomiting into toilet bowl.
The splashing finally stops echoing off porcelain and you
hear a few voices, both male and female. Which
bathroom is this? You walk-of-shame to the sinks to rinse your mouth out.
You look in the mirror to clean your face but you do not have a reflection.
A rightwards glance along the mirror: a short man with
scraggly beard and a redheaded woman pouting salty in a slim black number.
These two are the mirror's reflections of Pete (taller with sparser beard) and
his wife Soz (brunette, smiling).
The short man: 'I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to your
guys' wedding.'
Soz: 'That's all right, we know you were, uh -'
Pete: 'Dead.'
Short man: 'Yeah, but, I'm still dead. It's not an
excuse.'
You say 'the fuck?' and the four notice you.
The short man in the mirror walks over to you, extends a
hand: 'Hello. You must be who Frank mentioned. I'm Eric.'
Your handshake is stiff: 'Uh, hello.'
Eric smiles: 'This is Bloody Mary. My, uh, date?'
The redheaded woman crosses arms but smiles.
You do not release Eric's hand: 'Ha ha ha haaa.'
Soz looks doe-eyes to Pete. Pete smiles all-right and leads you by the shoulder
out of the bathroom. You feel drunk but not shitfaced, although that may simply
be the vomiting.
Pete: 'All right. Frank is currently hitting on James'
girlfriend. You can be his wingman, which is normal if a bit jarring. Or you
can stay with me and flow with this kinda' weird.'
You want:
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