Right Fucking Hungover [closed]
Someone felt like shit.
Complete and utter hit-by-a-speeding-train kind of shit.
But somehow, in some crevice of her brain, Marlow thought it would be a smart idea to cure the intense, mind-numbing hangover she had with something of the alcoholic variety. Though, at the very least, with added tomato juice and celery.
At least it sort of resembled breakfast.
She had met with her parents for a little New Year's Day brunch, mostly a sort of intervention to make sure that she was functioning properly. Both Sebastian and Rowan were worried for their daughter, knowing that a break-up like this was something she had never experienced before. Well, they weren't wrong.
But still, she found every reason to ditch out early, kissing them on their cheeks and letting them know she'd seen them for Sunday dinner.
All she wanted now was a very heavy drink.
No mind that it was only eleven in the morning.
So, there she was, pulling open the door to the White Lie, sitting at the bar and waiting for the bartender to come and take her order. In the meantime, she was going to sit with her head resting in her hand, her fingers tapping idly on the wooden counter in the melody of a Weird Sisters song.
Complete and utter hit-by-a-speeding-train kind of shit.
But somehow, in some crevice of her brain, Marlow thought it would be a smart idea to cure the intense, mind-numbing hangover she had with something of the alcoholic variety. Though, at the very least, with added tomato juice and celery.
At least it sort of resembled breakfast.
She had met with her parents for a little New Year's Day brunch, mostly a sort of intervention to make sure that she was functioning properly. Both Sebastian and Rowan were worried for their daughter, knowing that a break-up like this was something she had never experienced before. Well, they weren't wrong.
But still, she found every reason to ditch out early, kissing them on their cheeks and letting them know she'd seen them for Sunday dinner.
All she wanted now was a very heavy drink.
No mind that it was only eleven in the morning.
So, there she was, pulling open the door to the White Lie, sitting at the bar and waiting for the bartender to come and take her order. In the meantime, she was going to sit with her head resting in her hand, her fingers tapping idly on the wooden counter in the melody of a Weird Sisters song.