Music cuts. Light stabs your eyes, as your head instinctively recoils. Your senses return to the cacophony of chairs screaming across the wood floor. Wise patrons dart swiftly for the exit while drunkards remain stuck to their seats, frozen mid-sentence like deer in the headlights. Its closing time at the bar.
Life is no longer what it was a moment ago. Dragged from the warm blanket of darkness and familiar beats that smoothed over awkward exchanges, you’re forced to see your environment for what it is. You notice the polkadot stained couch with crated cushions, the clashing colors of posters and flags hung haphazardly on the wall, and the ghastly collection of characters that remain. It stinks in every sense.
Yet, you aren’t totally surprised. You secretly knew about this far earlier than you let on. Substituting doubles for singles, and suspending logic to follow your neighbor's incoherent ramblings were subconscious attempts to forget where you were - an antidote of sorts.
The booze slows the reckoning, but it is a reckoning none the less. You accept it and are thankful. If only you did it earlier.
You must go, and do.