Sporadic bursts of laughter punctuated the room's thick silence like fireworks in a thunderstorm. It was probably the third or fourth time I'd spilled my drink, but nobody seemed to care – mostly because they were too preoccupied with trying to get the DJ to play their favourite song. Someone handed me a bottle of vodka that I downed in what felt like one unbroken motion, then immediately regretted: the burn in my throat seemed to match the ache in my temples exactly. Outside, the city pulsed like it always did after midnight – I just wished I felt like the night was living for anyone else but me. I stumbled out into the humid air, letting the cool breeze blow directly into my nostrils as I squinted upwards at the sky.
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