Crisps on the bed, playlist up, someone doing a full face. We swear we are being sensible. Then the first round happens and plans die.
Tag: hangovers
No map, no group chat, no cab app. Just mascara and hope. A dead battery is how a cute night turns into a survival plot.
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.
If it is easy, I stay out. If I am bored in twenty minutes, I should leave. I rarely leave. That is always the problem.