I had no idea where I was, and the landscape outside – nondescript dying farmer’s fields – weren’t helping me none either.
The collar of my shirt is soaked through, and my feet are sweating so much that it feels as if I’m walking through a swamp. The girl behind the counter asks me for ID, and I take out my provisional driving licence.
Somebody knocks on my door and I try to stand but fall back down. I try to stand again and this time my legs grace me with regular use and I stumble to the door with the bottle of beer in my hand. I open the door.