Confidence

She crashed through the bathroom door. The hook, no matter how she grasped, escaped her fingers, but eventually she got it in the loop. Safe, for now.

She waited for the water to turn ice cold and splashed it on her face, again and again and again. She took deep breaths, which she was certain would slow down the alcohol. Leaning on the dripping sink, studying her dripping face, she got close enough to the stickered mirror to see her own pores, the ones on her nose. They were big, and obvious, and many. How ugly she was.

She unhooked the door and went back out, pushing through the young crowd, the stupid crowd, the drunk crowd of people like her in one way or another. She found her friend and grabbed her face.

"Tell me you know me."

"What?"

"Tell me you know me!"

Her friend understood.

"I know you."

"You know me!"

"I know you!"

And that was all she needed. She left with him, to the cab, to the apartment. She left with her purse, the purse with her phone, the phone with the missed calls and texts, the boy wondering where she was. But had she picked up, had she even wanted to, she would not have known how to answer.