Normal people would have flashback memories of their lives during that half of a second. Well since I’m not normal so very special I had all sorts of thoughts running wildly in my twisted mind as we were crashing in that other car. Half of a second can turn into quite a lot of time.
Where’s my lighter? Did I leave it at N's place?
I’m not a regular vodka drinker, why did he make me drink so much?
Not the faaaaace! And pleaaase not the legs!!!
High heels and tight miniskirt, very posh mademoiselle! What a pretty view for a dead body.
I should have called Cipri and tell him I’d made the reservation under my name!
Shit shit shiiiit!
Who’ll run the reports on Monday?
Oh so today is the 13th , that explains everything...
Diiing! Jim Morrisson died at 27. So did Janis. And Kurt. Special people tend to die at 27. Great! So I was right! But this is such a stupid way to die!
Crash!
Some 2 smokes and 10 minutes later C was dragging me to the junk Le General and the next thing I remember is saying Hi! to people. Then went completely blank up until some parts of my body started to really really hurt. Then a round of some doubtful black vodka, as suggested by Mi the artist. And another round. And another. And some other rounds added to that. Not sure about the final count but it was enough to request a dinner party from someone I hardly know. That felt so stupid unlike me. Oh yes, that and having a corny argument with the local rockstar. Decided rockstars are overrated live in their own little world anyway so why bother…
Actually what really scared me was that I’d die alone. Not alone-alone but alone. And that’s something that I’m not comfortable with.
