Check Yourself

After Peter left at 2am, complaining of illness and fatigue, I was left alone in the club. I could have started to make my way home at that point too, but the warmth of the bass and the insistency of the beat meant that I was still physically and mentally shackled to the dancefloor and I wouldn’t be leaving just yet. Plus, in a couple of hours I could catch a simple train back home, instead of trying to use my softened brain to figure out which combination of obscure night buses might return me to somewhere within walking distance of home. So, I ventured back into the sweating mass that populated the end of the hall nearest the music’s throbbing source.

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