The dream didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like he was going through it all over again, but this time he knew exactly what was going to happen. Daniel stood outside the bar, rain soaking through his hoodie, the taste of cigarette ash and bourbon lingering on his tongue. His phone buzzed in his pocket again, it was Mia. Her name was lit up like a warning sign, like something sacred he didn’t deserve to touch anymore. Not after what he had just found out. Inside, the music pounded like a second heartbeat. He barely remembered walking in, barely remembered the way the whiskey tore his throat to bits or the way he’d started shouting at the guy next to him for bumping his shoulder. Everything blurred after the fourth drink. Just flashes. Dark and dreary lights. A set of fake lashes and a warm hand pulling him into a cab. When he woke up, it was the sunlight that hurt the most. Blistering and invasive, making everything too clear too fast. A pounding head. A strange ceiling. And a woma
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