Bab 682: Simple Gift

When I think of afterparty, I think of low pulsing beats providing a chill ambiance in the background. I think of dim lights, people slouching and relaxing on any piece of furniture they can find, like a cafe… or a back alley bar after hours. 

Yet it seemed life had diffrent ideas for what an afterparty is supposed to be like. Here I was, ebbing in and out of focus, fighting hard and with valor to control my gag reflex amidst a world that refused to stop spinning. 

"No more parties," I groaned, solidifying my vow with a burp of a thousand regrets. "Christmas needs to be over before I keel over…" 

"A few more days," Irene said, teasing more than she was encouraging. "Just hold out until then, you'll survive."