It had been a particularly heavy night. So much so that it was now the morning after the morning after and I was still barely lucid as I squeezed through the ticket barrier and stumbled down the escalator. My head was splitting, my mouth tasted like a body builder’s armpit, and my clammy hands glued themselves to the rubber handrail. Of their own accord my .

Published (2019) in Schlock! Click here to see the magazine