Three drinks and you're stumbling towards her apartment.

You're finally going to tell her.

She laughs when you fall over in the doorway, tucks you on the sofa with a blanket, smiles sadly when you say you love her.

She says she'll believe you if you tell her when you're sober.

Next morning you wake up, mouth sticky, teeth furry, head banging. You remember it for one millisecond.

And then it's gone.

You're kneeling on her cold bathroom floor, head buried in the toilet, yelling at cats for rubbing wet noses against your ankles.

Already forgotten what you never remember.