Sarah Ruth Thomas

Anyway, I gotta head out.

Don't want to be late for my first human interaction in months.

1-1-2021-905-AM

"'God, my head hurts.

Woke up so late.

Drank way too much last night.

Shouldn't even be writing to you right now, Mr. Journal.

But something unbelievable happened last night.

I went to Horace's, and it was pretty packed.

I mean, for a rundown dive with bad lighting and a worse attitude, the place was surprisingly lively.'

I guess I shouldn't be too surprised since it was New Year's Eve.

Either way, I was there with Ben and Brandon from work, waiting for everyone to show.

And after they didn't for like 20 minutes, I decided I'd go for thirds on my Moscow mules.

Already feeling a little lighter due to the lack of drinking practice I've had made me think I was honestly and truly seeing things.

I had to have been.

At the bar, who hadn't been there 20 minutes prior, was a man sitting there in a full suit.

Like a fucking nice one, men's warehouse type shit.

He had moosed up black hair and a dark complexion to his skin.

Probably Middle Eastern, I assumed.

When I reached the bar close enough to see his face, wouldn't you fucking believe it?