Miranda awoke in a dark corner of the subway passage. She knew she had drank too much last night, but that wasn’t unusual for a Friday night. But she had never not managed to get home before, or at least to her friend Caren’s.
Okay, what could she remember? Caren went off with that stock-broker type. And then – and then there was the hot guy with the wavy hair. Bryan – no Ryan, that was it. They drank, and danced, and then drank. Wait, he got that third round from the bar by himself. Had he drugged her? she wondered. She instinctively reached down to check her panties. Well that was a relief. Her neck was a bit sore though. Was he that juvenile to give her a hickey love bite? Anyway, she would look at it in the mirror when she got home.
As she headed to the stairway, she had a instinctive terror. She stopped unable to step any closed to the sunlight streaming down the stairs. What was going on? Why did she “know” she couldn’t step into the light?