Tyler sat with his back against his bedroom door.
What did we just lose?
His breath dripped with alcohol; the carpet beneath him stained with beer.
He wasn’t sure how it happened. He was back to his chain-smoking, alcoholic self over a girl he barely knew.
We can’t accept what we do not get to choose.
He was pissed off, drunk and horny. The only thing left to do was prowl.

The club was the same as always. Sticky, sweaty and full of underage girls clutching their sugary concoctions. He staggered over to the prettiest one’s friend. He had a better chance with her.
“Want to get out of here?”, he yelled.
Our minds are a wash with all this talk.
The girl looked at him oddly. He wasn’t sure if he’d slurred his words. Am I making sense?
“You’re beautiful. Come on,” he managed. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t even care.
They could be lies, they could be doubt.
The girl whispered to her friend. She hesitated, then nodded. At least it would make him feel less hollow.
All the lies become perfectly sweet.