i think we started on the scrumpy cider that night in a town i'd never visited. west country somewhere - A's parents' house. we soon moved on to tequila and whisky - sitting at the kitchen table listening to A's dad's stories of old characters he knew before he became one himself.

then out to some smoky cocktail bar in a riot of glitter. i remember trying to dance on our tiny area of floor, and howling as we drew stars or pentagrams on eachother's foreheads in eyeliner. feeling guilty and foolish when A went to scrub hers off. she worried about appearance, even when drunk.

there was a club later, with unimaginable topology - an escher parody in my lurching memory. flimsy pillars twisting everywhere and staircases like waterfalls. B fell up or down one of these. she collapsed later, that night's unlucky casualty. the bouncers were dragging her out to an ambulance while i scoured the crazy place with the thoroughness of any drunk on a mission. peering at the clinching couples in every dark corner, wondering if i would recognise A or G or the others if i did find them. riding through unfamiliar streets full of people as stupid as me, skull thrown back against the juddering metal. thin morning light, cold and empty.