The silence on the other end of the phone hung heavy in the air for what felt like an eternity.

Dorothy was tipsy, her vision blurring as she peered at the screen, half-convinced the call had disconnected.

“Right... we broke up ages ago; he’s not coming.” she slurred to herself.

“Miss, are you drunk-dialing your ex?” The guy noticed her staggering attempt to stand and reached out to steady her.

She shook her head, instinctively recoiling from his touch, “Here, take your phone back! The money is yours.” “Whoa, you're giving me all this? I'd feel like a real jerk taking your cash without making sure you get home safe,” he said, his voice dropping playfully as he chuckled, “This bar's full of guys eyeing you like a slab of prime rib. So, you gonna stroll out with me or take your chances with them?” The alcohol clouded her mind, and Dorothy struggled to keep up with his banter.

But a sliver of sobriety clung on, reminding her that after the drinks, home was the destination.

with her tongue tied in knots, she managed to furrow her brow and say with deliberate clarity, “To my place.” “Alright! Off to your place we go.” The rest of the night was a blur to Dorothy. She vaguely remembered stumbling out of the bar, dodging his attempts to guide her more than once, and then hearing him mutter behind her, “Jeez, the call’s still going!” When consciousness returned, she found herself on her apartment's couch! Relieved

The next day.

over, only to roll off the couch and onto the

with the coffee table, and

the injury revealed a red

kicking in with a vengeance, so she rifled through her bag for some ibuprofen. Not caring if it

and saw missed calls from lawyer Ephraim and Karen, and

nothing serious, just a reminder about a court date to

her friend's pep talk, “You're gonna nail this, Dorothy! Keep your chin up!” “Mhm.” Because she was drunk last night, Dorothy slept for a long time.

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