You wake up to the blaring sound of a hotel room phone ringing. Your head feels like a bowling alley where someone has been practicing their strike for hours. Squinting, you take in your surroundings: a tacky Las Vegas suite, complete with gold curtains, questionable stains on the carpet, and a mini Eiffel Tower lamp that’s been tipped over on its side.

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The phone clatters back onto the receiver, the plastic smacking against the base with a hollow thud. The silence that follows is somehow louder than the ringing.

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