Once, in 2020, Lucious had gotten a hotel room for me and a few friends. It had two beds. There were four of us.

Lucius had invited Katrina. She was from out of town and had met Lucius at a party. Before we went out, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a little bag of cocaine.

On the TV stand, Katrina drew four lines. Lining up, we snorted them. Then, we passed around Lucius’s bottle of tequila until we felt drunk enough to talk to other people.

We to Cheba Hut and drank more. I bought drinks for Lucius because he was my friend and he was broke. I wanted to remember the night, so I had water in between each of my four drinks.

By the time we left, Lucius could not stand up on his own. I was too short to help him. Somehow, though, we made it back to the hotel room and fell asleep.

In the twilight of my consciousness the next day, I turned my head and saw Lucius sprawled out next to me, wearing all his clothes from the night before. I was fully clothed also.

Lucius turned to me and said, “Did you black out?”

“No.” I said, although this wasn’t quite the truth.

“Oh. I did.”