"You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that this terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder. Then again, it might not. A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is the result of too much of that already. The night has all ready turned on that imperceptible pivot where two am changes into six am."