Liquor bottles were scattered everywhere along with half-eaten plates of expensive food. The once-pristine minimalist interior was littered with mounds of powdered glitter, discarded clothes that were forgotten, and enough vomit stains for me to sincerely hope they came from the alcohol and not some unfortunate medical emergency.
Suffice it to say, Ray's new place was thrashed. He and the rest of the crew were on the balcony.
By the time I saw the last of the revelers out the door — a drunk girl leaning on her boyfriend as they slurred their goodbye — I felt like I had aged about forty years.
Upon slamming the door shut, I was greeted by silence.
Beautiful, wonderful, heavenly silence.
I stood there for a while, staring at nothing in particular, then exhaled and brought the beer mug I had in my hands to my lips. It was empty.
I was parched.
