Go Home

Fuck that place. It was late, and soon after our drinks I headed home, alone.

It was hard to get any sleep that night. It didn't feel right to pursue Becca, or anyone else in the group for that matter, and finally separating myself from them felt like a weight off my shoulders. On exit, they seemed amicable enough with me, no stranger than when I was offered a free pass to pursue them, sexually - if that means anything. Something about the unrealness of the situation I've found myself in kept me held back, harder to justify fucking someone's other - while, equally curious, I could not deny the absolute rager going on beneath my sheets.

I kept the bartender's card on the nightstand, entertaining whether I should call. His tone - his... enthusiastic demeanor when I suggested the idea, I couldn't shake the feeling, as if in that moment I degraded our rapport, a spirit descended into his mind. An alien thought that, just, found a home in his subconscious, and all he could do was say YES, this is right, more please!

Exhaustion dimmed my ability to think properly. A fresh day would do me some good; if only I could get some sleep.