It was one of those nights where the world would always be soaked through. You’d change out of your wet clothes, towel off and you’d still feel damp inside. A stiff drink might push the feeling back, but only just long enough for your to walk across the room and fix another.
Nights like this are endless. They just go on forever. You imagine growing old, clothes wet, bones sodden, moss growing in your joints. Sometimes it feels like the sun will never rise again.
Darkness. Wet, heavy, inescapable darkness, something like living in the bottom of a deep well.