By Kilian, Good Girl Gone Bad
She eases herself from the scrum of dancers, high on everything. She rests her elbows on the bar, feels them stick but doesn’t care. She lights a cigarette before anyone can say anything and the bartender knows she wants a a vodka with a splash of cranberry and a lemon slice in a rocks glass cause that way she won’t waste any time. Before you miss her she’s gone. Until she turns up again, well past last-call and teetering. She staggers through your kitchen, still thirsty and hungry too. She’s gone before the sun rises but you can still smell her on your sheets.