I went to a party last night, mainly for the free booze and because i couldn't spend another night staring at my ceiling. I found myself in the middle of Thomas Collins living room, another jockey from who lived and breathed football. Music thumping so harshly I could feel it in my throat and chest, I sat there alone and had 1 drink, then 2 drinks, those led to 3, 4, 5, and now I'm wasted. I got up this morning with no recollection as to how I found my way home but.. that isn't what stuck out to me. there was only one thing I could remember when I woke up this morning. a pair of eyes on me almost the whole time I was there last night . Every time I looked at him his eyes were searching mine. A look so intent it almost felt like a touch. Unusual. It had to have been the drinks..
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