2002, NYC.

Twenty-two-year-old, northern-suburb-of-Chicago girl finds herself single and friendless in the Big City.

Her mother urges her to return home. She refuses.

———————————————————————————————————–

“I had it all when I moved to Manhattan,” she says, sniffling. “Enthusiasm, confidence.”

Sadly, months later, she lost it all, becoming a woman she no longer recognized, no longer loved.

“But how did she lose it?” you question.

It was a bartender, an Irish one. She became addicted.

“I guzzled his attention, never ceasing to breathe,” she sighs, wiping the tears. “His beers, I sipped slowly.”

Intoxicated by his piercing brown eyes, unintelligible brogue, and body-rousing embraces, she transformed into a submissive, yet fire-breathing creature, a grotesque beast of a woman.

“Horns, talons, fangs, and the willingness to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted,” she weeps. “A whole other woman.”

Thank God he was allergic to cats.

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