“Bryony! Bryony!” he yelled, “wake up, come on now, get up you.” The rain hissed at the pane, she was lying at the couch with a lax arm hanging out over the worn wooden floor. She opened her eyes to the beat of a lost water drop. “Get off” she said, “I’m fine, I’m fine!” She took her seat and straightened her messy hair. She lighted up a smoke, and threw the lighter back at the table. “Too many lines?” he asked while he was inhaling his bong, and then exhaled again. She didn’t listen to him. She couldn’t remember anything from yesterday, “what the hell happened last night?” she asked, “I think you are better off not knowing what happened” he said. “Well tell me!” and he stated to explain:
“Music was playing, very loud, I was at the club at that time, you was looking at me, while I was sitting at the bar, killing some shots. Then you came over, drunk and horny, asked me if I got any of those A-class stuff. So we went to the toilet, to do the powder, and you told me afterwards, you couldn’t pay in money, but that you could offer something else if I was in to that.”
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