Okay. I’m pretty drunk. Well, I’m not, like, wasted or anything, but buzzed enough to make the sidewalk feel like a boat rocking back and forth against easy waves and like there’s a warm cloth gently placed over my brain, like my head is a steaming sanna. It’s nice. But the girl next to me, she’s way gone. She’s crossing her feet over each other, criss-crossing and zig-zagging, and after every step it looks like her legs are going to give out. Her shirt is sticking to her thin body from long ago drink stains. That annoying laugh that I don’t find annoying at this very moment. It’s all very what-you’d-expect, more or less. Just some chick I picked up at the bar a couple hours ago because I was feeling lonely and hollow and I liked the way she was rolling her body to the tune on the jukebox in the corner of the bar, how she looked so lost inside herself and in euphoria with something so pointless. She’s young enough for me to think that there is still some innocence and naivete in her. I don’t know. What does that make me? I don’t know that either. I’m just a little drunk and lonely right now.