Taking in the light shining through the windows, Jamie wakes disoriented. A musty smell fills her nostrils, her cheek is pressed against the fuzzy velvet covering of the booth. Licking her dry lips as she pushes herself up a jolt of pain strikes across her head and the unpleasant nausea of a hangover descends. How much did she drink last night?
Jamie glances sorely at the tables, despite the night’s drinking only a solitary glass is left. A single pint of water and a packet of pills. Maybe they left it for her? Memories of the night come back in a flash and despite feeling like death she grins to herself. And then she cries. Her crying sends bolts across her already aching head, so she forces herself to stop and calms her shuddering shoulders. Jamie slowly reaches for the water, her hands shaking as she brings the tepid water to her mouth and gags down two white nasty powdery acetaminophens. The liquid coats her warm, fetid mouth and despite how long it’s been sitting she’s never felt so refreshed. Taking a deep breath Jamie gets to her feet, and slowly makes her way into the bathroom. Reproachfully Jamie assesses her pallid reflection, two $50 bills attached to the grimy bathroom mirror catch her eye. Confused Jamie pulls at the bank notes, a thin strand of chewing gum coming away with them. Underneath the mirror, scrawled in eyeliner is a message: ‘Mother, she’s a BITCH!’.
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