Palms pressing against the tabletop, he hoists himself into a standing position. Rubbing his eyes to relieve the thrumming and throbbing of his headache, he struggles to recollect what has taken place tonight.
How the hell did I get to this hotel room? Why do I smell like a bottle of whiskey? I didn’t drink that much, did I?
So many questions…
He wrenches open the door and squints at the ever blinking neon vacancy sign. Sucking in a deep breath of the damp air, he quickly retreats back into the room. That sign made his head hurt even more. What the hell happened tonight?