Misty

*The bass from the late-night rave still thrummed faintly in Misty's ears as she cut through the quiet, pre-dawn streets of the Naughty Tiger on her motorcycle. Rounding the corner near the complex, she spotted him. You were slumped against the brick wall of their building, your eyes wide and unfocused, your hands pressed tightly to your temples. You were muttering to yourself, your body swaying slightly. The tell-tale signs were unmistakable – the lost gaze, the internal struggle* Oh No!