I awoke on the ground in a daze. Some fluid was covering my face. Probably vomit. Probably my own.

I blew my nostrils clear. Nothing came out, and it didn't smell, so it was probably someone else's.

Ugh...

Hangovers suck. Mine usually feel like some distant blast knocked me on my head, and they're usually accompanied by something disgusting, like someone else's vomit on my face.

As I wiped my face, I thought, Ooh, good, the chunky kind. My vision was kind of blurry from the leftovers as I looked around. All I could see was the outlines of peoples' limbs hanging off of things. I found a blanket to clear my vision further.

Now that I could see, I could start to identify people by their limbs. There was Fred's hand on the couch, Maurice's stubby finger under some blankets, Sarah's legs out of the closet. Somehow Alice had gotten stuck between the retracted couch bed and the cushions Fred was sleeping on, but she seemed fine with it. She always liked tight spaces to sleep in.

Not wanting to disturb anybody, I tiptoed into the restroom and washed my face. The chunks turned out to be wax, and I vaguely remembered something about Fred holding wax fruit covered in sugar, and a dare. Guess he couldn't hold it all down after all.

My stealth skill levelled up while I maneuvered about the wreckage from last night. As I neared the door, I noticed movement. It was Vanessa waving goodbye from the closet. She was cross-legged, Sarah sitting in her lap. She resumed stroking her sister's hair; Sarah relaxed a bit more.

"Heading out, then?" she whispered. I nodded. "I suppose it is a good time. Get up, sleepyhead, Josh is leaving." She shook Sarah awake, and they both slowly climbed out of the closet.

After hugging goodbye, Vanessa put a finger to her mouth and creeped towards the rest of the visitors in an overly dramatic fashion. I grabbed the door handle, then turned to see what would happen.

She motioned: 3, 2, 1..

"ALRIGHT SOLDIERS, ON YOUR FEET! MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"

Everybody with military background immediately sprang to their feet, and just as immediately regretted it. The headache you get from standing up fast mixes well with hangover. Everyone else just shuffled around and moaned. The three of us that were up shared stifled laughs. I waved goodbye, then headed out.

That was the first party I'd been to in a while. It was nice. Good selection of people, the games were entertaining for all, general positive attitude. But now it was back to real life. Real life where you gotta work to earn your keep, people care what you say, laws govern the... people...

I ran back inside, just to make sure. Where is it, where is it... There! I grabbed a device from one of the drawers, popped a fresh cap on it, and blew. Please, please, please... 0.02! Thank goodness, didn't want to have to call a cab. Always good to be sure, though. I waved again to all of the now-conscious people who noticed my return, and hopped back outside.

It was a beautiful day out. Sunny, only partly cloudy, light breeze; it was enough to stop me in my tracks just to enjoy it for a moment. Days like this are almost enough to cure depression. Almost.

As I started the car, all the familiar thoughts along that line started coming back, but I wasn't going to let them stay. Nah, today was much too beautiful to waste thinking about all that. I opened the window, and the warm, gentle breeze blew all the bad thoughts away.

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The drive home was fairly short and uneventful. I don't know what I was expecting from it. I dunno, something amazing, I guess... Upon arrival I parked the car and weighed my options. Option A: Go inside, enjoy some screen time, go to bed. Exciting, but a waste of a perfectly good day. Option B: Find someone to enjoy the day with. Ha, as if. Anybody who would be interested is still hungover, even if I could muster the courage to ask. Option C: Bike around the neighborhood for a bit, come home, then revert to Option A.

Sounds like a plan.

The bike seat was a bit uncomfortable when I started off. The foam material inside had hardened long ago. Usually the seat is the last thing to wear out, but I guess when you don't ride often, atrophy sets in before the tires tear or the brake lines have a chance to crack. At least I took good care of it otherwise, and it ran smoothly out of the garage.

My favorite place to ride is a neighborhood a few blocks over. The area used to be a quarry, but they ran out of material to dig, so they packed up and left a huge hole in the middle of the town, which had grown around the quarry. The people living nearby saw the damage and had the bright idea to clean the chemical wastes left behind and populate the area. The result was a neighborhood with one road spiraling towards the center, which had become a park, and a few walking paths going directly in and out. It was extremely satisfying to ride the spiral all the way down, only occasionally needing to press the brakes, then walk out via the walking paths. Sometimes I would take this path over and over, feeling the rush of the wind against my face, the smooth path underneath the tires, and just imagine this was it. This was all I ever had to do. I could just float down the road and leave all my worries behind.

After the usual short ride only a few blocks away, I reached the top of the spiral, took a second to appreciate the breeze, waved to the neighbors, and started down the road.

People all around were enjoying this day just as much as I. One fellow was watering his garden. Another was mowing, though it was obvious by the length of the grass she was just doing it as an excuse to get outside. One couple was sunbathing on towels in their front yard. The day was perfect and the whole world seemed to know it. Nothing could ruin this day.

Then something strange happened. It got dark.

I stopped by some road workers who were fixing the road by a small pool full of kids and looked to the sky. Where once before had been only blue skies and light fluffy clouds, now there was what appeared to be storm clouds. Not just any storm, either. They were ready to form a twister, centered directly over the neighborhood park.

I looked around. The children noticed it, but having never experienced a storm of any magnitude, they just pointed and gleefully shouted rather than running for shelter. Behind me, the road workers were also unfazed. Something felt off.

I looked back at the storm. A twister was definitely forming. It was halfway to the ground. My neck itched. Something was wrong.

I shouted at the children, "Get inside!" They looked at me as if to say, "Look at this weirdo. You're not my mom." They went back to admiring the clouds.

The storm was growing quickly, at a steady rate. "Get inside! Now! You'll die if you don't!" I didn't know where the words came from, but they felt true somehow. I shouted the same to the construction workers and they gave me the same look the children were.

All around me, people were outside. Further in the spiral, people were coming out to answer the calls of curiosity from those outside. Something was very wrong.

I suddenly realized I shouldn't be on my bike, there was no way I was going to pedal fast enough to escape. I threw it to the ground and stepped backwards toward the nearest house, staring at the storm as it grew. The twister had almost touched down, then stopped. The bottom was hovering a few feet off the ground, and though the clouds continued to twist, it progressed no further.

My foot fell in the hole the workers were going to fill. They were entranced by the storm, same as everyone else. They hadn't even put the bags of concrete powder in their hands down. Looking down for a split second, the hole was large enough to hold all three of us, but the depth was questionable. It might be safer than standing outside, and it's closer than the house, but if it wasn't deep enough we'd be screwed. Then again, it appeared the workers did not intend to hide. They stood in their dazed state, seeming almost charmed by the storm, despite its lack of beauty.

Before I could choose whether to run for the house or pull the workers in the hole, the blast chose for me.