I looked around my room, my head pounding. What even happened last night? God, my head hurts.. it feels like a hangover, but I know I definitely didn't drink. I rub my eyes groaning out a harsh 'Mornin'' to myself. I had to check if my voice was there.

God, my voice was real croaky. How'd that happen? I reached up to feel my tuff hair. Still there. I gently felt my nightstand. You know, the black one that I shared with Soda? Yeah, that one. I reached to get my comb. My hair was greased back with sweat and other such fluids. I couldn't take a shower; I'm too poor for that. I don't mind. Hell, I take pride in my greased back hair. I've been told by Dallas that I've had the most tuffest hair in the city.

Before I knew it, I was holding my shirt and putting it on. I put on my jeans. Then, I reached for my leather jacket. As I did, a ton of thoughts ran through my head. Should I go to the movies? Or should I talk to Johnny and Dally? I pondered the first idea.