Headlights flashed past as I stumbled out of the town house, the icy wind whipping my hair across my face. I clutched the paper bag in my hands like a shield, the cheap whiskey from last night burning a hole in my stomach. Down the street, a beat-up sedan drove past, its taillights painting stripes on the snow-covered pavement.

"Nice ride," I muttered, watching it vanish around a corner. My own car was still parked three blocks away, and the nearest taxi was further than I cared to walk. But something about this town felt... familiar. Like I'd been here before.

I trudged onward, the soles of my鞋sinking into the fresh snow, each step feeling heavier than the last. This was supposed to be the start of a new life, a fresh beginning. But right now, I just felt like an idiot.

The townhouse was a dump, the walls peeling in places and the kitchen sink clogged with what looked like old oatmeal. I'd meant to clean up, to make it look like I belonged. But between the hangover and the crushing realization that I was stuck here, every muscle in my body screamed for rest.