So I flung back the blankets and threw my feet over the side of the bed in disgust. I started walking towards the living room when I heard a crashing ...ound near the kitchen. All thoughts left but one. James! No, not him! Dear God, don’t let it be him! I tried to run back but it seemed my legs had grown roots. My breathing became incredibly loud against the darkness, so I leaned in trying to pinpoint the sound. But when I heard another rustling in the kitchen again I willed my legs to move but. We needed to find a bar and have a couple of cocktails while we killed a little time. The Dungeon doesn’t get busy until about 8 or 9 pm. I decided we should go to Pat O’Brien’s on St. Peter. They are the home of the Hurricane cocktail. One will make a grown man a little tipsy and two could make you write bad checks for a stripper named Jasmine. Kenna had one Hurricane, but I had two. We just made small talk and I was looking forward to the night to come. We left Pat O’Brien’s and headed to. More

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