Garren hissed as he squinted at the sunlight that shined through his window. His head pounded the techno beat from the night before.
“Oh God,” he whispered and flinched from even the sound of his voice. With painful slowness he pressed his hand to his forehead and tried to stop the hammer that was smashing his scull in. He turned over onto his back and groaned as the night rushed back through his mind.
The bar. Drinking too much scotch. Aspen looking hot enough to melt iron.
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