The morning came without Zain being conscious to notice it. He had made an example of himself as always, and his over-partying had lead others to follow. More people than usual were passed out the same as him in various places around the house. This time, Zain hadn't made it to the couch and was sleeping under a tablecloth in his boxers and one sock. A woman in a slinky black dress was pressed up against his side, not that he was aware of her presence.

Morning light sifted in through a window and danced on the floor and through the debris. Paper cups, some broken glass, and empty beer cans littered every surface. It had been a good party.