At the bar like so many times before, ordering the same drink, Graduate feels different. Invisible, accomplishment courses through veins; caffeine, the only reason consciousness is retained at the end of this long chain of days wrapped so tight around neck that Graduate can’t –

Breathe. Graduate thinks out the reminder to self. Knuckles loosen and hands drop – there’s time, now to relax. Order is in. Back to the table. A conversation between Friends and Relatives.

“Like pin the tail on the donkey.” Mother wheezes, laughs, smacks the table.

“Aaazackly.” Roommate says, looking at Graduate proudly, “Our parties were legendary.”

“People actually played?” Father asks doubtfully.

“Unfortunately.” Graduate confirms, embarrassingly. “I know it sounds stupid to you, when you were my age you were already in a trade, working hard -“

“When I was your age I partied too. We passed a chick around, had her pussy playin’ peekaboo with a stick of salami.”

“Ew!” Mother exclaims.

“What? We microwaved it before we ate it.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Says Classmate.

The man sits up a little straighter. “Point is I partied way harder than you.”

“Okay,” Graduate claps hands together, “I did get another round, but how long did we all think we’re gonna stay? It was a lot of sitting today and I still feel beat on.”

“It’s no rush, right?”

“Yeah, Your parents said they’d pay.”

As if on cue, a worker brings the drinks to the table. For the Relatives, plastic cups, for the Friends, a line of shots, for Graduate, a bottle of beer.

“That’s no fun.” Father nods at the glass.

“They were done with this place weeks ago,” Classmate says, waving for another shot, “Ready to grow up,” Tone turns mockingly high, “Ready to get this show on the road.”

“What are you gonna do without me driving you around?” Roommate’s question adds onto the attack. “Can’t be a passenger in your own car, assuming you have one, of course.”

“Yap yap yap.” Graduate sucks alcohol flavored air out of the now empty bottle, “Jokes aren’t funny when you’ve heard them before.”

“I don’t think you know fun at all.” Father declares.

Mother gives a half-apologetic squint. “You’re kind of a bore.”

Drill bit words that finally break through Graduate’s stony surface. “I am not.” From somewhere, a dramatic snore sends Graduate away, and everyone else into a fit of laughter.

When Graduate returns the ruckus quiets. Roommate wipes away tears of happiness. “Glad you decided to stay.”

“Let’s play a game.” Graduate says, shifting shot glasses to ends of table, “Who has some change?”

“They only take card here.”

“Fine. Spin the bottle?”

“With your parents?”

“You don’t have to kiss-” Graduate panics, “We can do other, non-sexual shit.” Nervous laughs. “I’m not afraid of fun; I’m the only one willing to play a game.”

“But honey, that sounds stupid. You could sit out then the rest of us -“

Mother is halfway through her sentence when Father knocks bottle onto ground, breaking it. “Whoops. Guess nobody can play.”

Friends look at each other knowingly, stand to leave. “No.” Graduate says, forcing them back into seats. “We’re gonna play.”

Graduate drops onto the ground – onto shards that stab and slice and separate skin and blood flows from within – “Spin me – SPIN ME!” No one listens – Graduate kicks feet, sliding, dragging self in a circle, picking up more speed as blood covers fragmented glass – more pain as the screams of Relatives and Friends fade, more darkness as vision blurs and everything is unknown.

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