RIP Nicole

Early in the day, I made my way deep into NJ to meet with Storm, immediately heading to the wedding to begin setting up the film shoot. The atmosphere was beautiful, and so was the wedding party. The wedding went off without a hitch, and I filmed everything as best I could from each of my vantage points. As it was time for the reception, I discovered the event featured multiple open bars. And so I downed my first glass, which opened up the door for the worst of me to appear. The night continued, and the wedding party graced the dance floor to the music of celebrity DJ, Kid Capri. With each drink, I went deeper and deeper into my thoughts. Cheez had made his way down as well, offering to be my ride back to New York when this was all over. As we both sipped cocktails at this illustrious affair, I grabbed my phone, as I normally do, and typed into my browser. As I scrolled through my timeline, drunk and with a camera in hand, I stumbled upon a post that knocked the breath out of my lungs. “RIP Nicole NOE Morris.” In a panic, I scrambled through comments to see if this was some evil prank, but having been confirmed by those within the hospice, Nicole had taken her last breaths that night, as I drunkenly stumbled around a stranger’s wedding looking to rub shoulders with celebrities. I melted down in real-time, screaming at the top of my lungs as both Cheez and Storm pushed me into the bathroom. “How could this be? I don’t believe it!” I screamed over and over, snot and tears streaming down my face. Trying my best to gather myself, I made my way back to the reception hall, where after downing another drink, I proceeded to inform the bride that “instead of being with my friend who just died, I’m here with you.” The night was quickly turning into a horror show, and Storm, who was visibly upset, guided us out of the venue where Cheez’s car would be parked. Screaming, Cheez got inside and fired up the engine, ready to leave this catastrophe. As we sped down the highway, arguing at the top of our lungs, the earth-shattering guilt I felt knowing Nicole was gone made me unbuckle my seat belt and attempt to lunge out the now-open passenger door. Cheez, simultaneously holding the steering wheel and my shirt, managed to salvage what could’ve been another disaster. As the car pulled up to my mother’s house, I stumbled my way upstairs and cried into the pillow on her sofa. The weight of the night’s events crushed me, and as I sobbed, I drifted away into sleep in hopes of this all being a dream.

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