The silence on the other end of the phone hung heavy in the air for what felt like an eternity.

Dorothy was tipsy, her vision blurring as she peered at the screen, half-convinced the call had disconnected.

“Right... we broke up ages ago; he’s not coming.” she slurred to herself.

“Miss, are you drunk-dialing your ex?” The guy noticed her staggering attempt to stand and reached out to steady her.

She shook her head, instinctively recoiling from his touch, “Here, take your phone back! The money is yours.” “Whoa, you're giving me all this? I'd feel like a real jerk taking your cash without making sure you get home safe,” he said, his voice dropping playfully as he chuckled, “This bar's full of guys eyeing you like a slab of prime rib. So, you gonna stroll out with me or take your chances with them?” The alcohol clouded her mind, and Dorothy struggled to keep up with his banter.

But a sliver of sobriety clung on, reminding her that after the drinks, home was the destination.

deliberate clarity, “To my place.” “Alright! Off to your place we go.” The rest of the night was a blur to Dorothy. She vaguely remembered stumbling out of the bar, dodging his attempts to guide her more than once, and then hearing him mutter behind her, “Jeez, the call’s still going!” When consciousness returned, she found

The next day.

to roll off the couch and

the coffee table, and the pain creased her

a red

vengeance, so she rifled through her bag for some ibuprofen. Not caring if it was a good mix with the residual alcohol,

grabbed her phone and saw missed calls from lawyer Ephraim and Karen, and not much

reminder about a court date

dialed Karen. While brushing her teeth, she was also listening to her friend's pep talk, “You're gonna nail this, Dorothy! Keep your

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