George lay there while the world spun around, spinning and spinning and spinning. For many moments he thought he would die. For many more he wished he would. He would not be so lucky though, and as a tire pulled into view, blurry and continuing to spin even when he knew the car was stopped, he knew that he would be going home. To pass out, if the world was merciful.
What a party it had been. What a morning it was going to be. |