Her vision is blurry- like there is a permanent fog surrounding her head. Her bright orange bangs flit in and out of her peripheral vision, making every step feel like a rave. She's pretty sure that if she were still in her heels, her ankle would be broken (she can't walk right now, really, at least not in a straight line) and she's glad she ditched them- even if she can't remember where. If she were coherent, she would probably be furious at herself (they were quite expensive shoes), but when she's like this she just feels so free.
Things like shoes and where you left them just don't matter, and although it isn't a good thing to be drunk and wandering the streets, it feels good.
Or, it did, until the headache that slowly wound its way around her brain began pounding the insides of her skull, like a prisoner trying in vain to escape. She half wished she could just smash it open- set it free and be free of the pain as well. She can't, though, and she can't take any aspirin until