Doors

[She didn't waste any time getting to Neil's room after rushing out of the car and leaving shoeless-Daniel and bleeding-Lin behind. And maybe she should have been worried about them, yeah? But she was coming down hard, and she was jittery in a way that only happened after a multi-day binge. She tried to smooth the wrinkled fabric of a shirt that was too tight, and she tried to tug up the jeans that were too loose. There was no way the clothing she was wearing belonged to her, and there wasn't shit she could do about it. She crossed her arms, unintentionally hiding marks, and her blonde hair was mess and tangles as she barged into Neil's room without knocking or whatever. She smelled of booze and smoke, even from the doorway, and her eyes were red-rimmed and blood shot.]

Hey.

I tried dropping this journal into the Mediterranean. And it washed back up on the shore exactly where I was, good as new. Three times.

I didn't know it could do that.