She wonders when she has become less of the job and more of the drinks. It seems with each passing day she understands how very easy it is to fall into vices, into the deep swirl of a good hard drink...into the slumber that follows, that takes away the ache and annoyance of the whole week.
She numbs the thoughts running amok in her busy head and tries to kill any semblance of feelings with odd one-offs and non-labelled interactions with various colourful characters. The friends she keep she is now losing. The closest she has already lost. She is counting down to the point when she will lay on the floor of some squallid club, waiting for her friend to take her home in a cab. Just waiting.