His nightly regime had been the same since he first started the circuit; and yet, this may have been the first evening in which he didn’t pick up a single one of his vices; not a hit of m*******a, not a sip of alcohol, and not a message to a single girl set in plethora of his electronic little black book. Instead, he would sit in the darkness of his hotel room with the only lights having come from the nightlife at his back illuminated with the reminder that life still existed beyond his melancholic setting. But as his steps would rise to the door with the expectant presence of Winston coming to retrieve his things for his flight in a few hours, he would open the door to find Kayla standing on the opposite side of his threshold.
Covered in rain from the downpour that left her sodden from
