Forty-eight:
Prince Henry
I was out of the palace.
I was dancing with a beautiful blond girl, who I was fairly certain was a model, and I was with my friends. Normally, a night on the town like this would have been exactly what I needed. But this wasn’t what I needed. I was dancing and despite the girl grinding up against me, I was empty.
As the girl leaned into kiss me, I pushed her off. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, “this isn’t going to happen tonight, love. You’ll have to find someone else.”
The girl rolled her eyes, muttered something that sounded like, “Wanker,” then stormed off. I was fine with that. I didn’t want to be around people anyway. I’d only come because of the booze, and even the booze wasn’t doing anything.
