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•22• Gerrard

The party is in full swing.

We're on the rooftop-- the deck, to be exact, where the lighting's dim and flashy. It's blaring pink on one face then shifts to green on some other face, shining yellow on the mob of dancing bodies somewhere in the center of the makeshift dancefloor, but I? I'm just standing off to the side with my brother, a red solo cup of tea in my hands. 

Keith, on the other hand, sips on his red solo cup of coffee. 

What can we say?

We learned from our father the hard way that alcohol never does anybody any good.

A few people have asked me to join in on the fun-- dance with them, play pong with them, drink and go bottoms up with them, but I find I can’t be swayed from my spot in this random corner of the deck. And that’s because mentally, I’m not even here.

I’m back in my office, sitting in my chair in shock as Gard tells me she’s Ruben’s date to his family dinner. The si

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