Standing in the men's room of a club he knows he's about five years too old to be in, Nicholas Solstice tries in vain to remove his wedding band. Soaping his hands in a generous amount of liquid soap he tugs at his finger and feels his ring slip slightly. He tries using his teeth forgetting the soap and gags.
"Must be some hot number" a stranger says to Nicholas as he passes on his way to the stalls. Nicholas ignores him and continues in vain to remove his ring.
"Come on" he mutters to himself as his finger pops from the effort being used. He sighs and observes his reflection in the mirror. His wife has been missing for six months. The police waited three weeks before finally giving up on the search for her. There's no Amber Alert for adults. When you go missing the closest thing you have are news reports squeezed in between stories of the next mating panda or some hot chick making another song about the presidential nominees. He spits into the sink and drags himself back into the club.
The loud, bass heavy music gives him a headache he knows he'll feel in the morning. The three vodka shots won't help either. Never one to imbibe in liquor except on special occasions, Nicholas has yet to master the art of being a good drinker. He stumbles back to the booth he believes to be his before looking to his left and seeing a very unfamiliar face.
