Just one more," he said. "We'll go home then."
I gazed out of the large window on the fifth floor at storm clouds hanging low across the horizon. The sea continued pounding the rocks with increasing intensity. One more drink. One more party. One more argument. And I was exhausted by his empty promises, his drain on my bank account and energy. For hours, I'd inhaled second hand smoke while my retinas endured assault from strobe lighting and fog lights.
