The Girl

You wake up face-down, half-draped over your living room sofa, your mouth dry and your head pounding like a bass drum. Every muscle in your body protests as you shift, trying to piece together how you ended up here. The sunlight stabbing through the blinds doesn’t help. You sit up slowly, groaning, and fragments of the night before start drifting back in. You remember heading out to the Thunder Dome with your friends—a blur of flashing lights, pulsing music, and bodies moving in rhythm. Shots were poured, drinks went down easy, and at some point, the dance floor pulled you in. Then… her. A girl. No—the girl. Long, dark hair, eyes that seemed to glow under the strobe lights, and a laugh that cut through the music like a spark in the dark. You danced with her. Talked, maybe? It's all fuzzy now. Your phone buzzes sharply on the coffee table, snapping you out of your haze. You reach for it with a groan and squint at the screen. It’s a text from an unknown number. Attached is a photo—her. The same beautiful brunette from last night, smiling at the camera with a glint of mischief in her eyes. Beneath the image, a message reads: "You left your wallet. You can have it if you can find me. Need a hint?" Your heart skips. Suddenly, you're wide awake.