Lennie reached out, his hand shaking, towards the hot toddy. He knew in the back of his mind that whisky mixed with sugar, hot water and lemon juice was in no way going to cure his cold. The thing was he did not care so much, because the drink was making him feel good or perhaps drunk. It was hard to say.

Even though he had enjoyed the warehouse party a couple of days before, he was starting to wonder if spending all night in a leaky, dirty warehouse with eight hundred people and kissing and hugging a large number of them had been smart. Certainly the rattling noise that the phlegm caught in the top of his chest was making seemed to indicate that it had been a bad choice.

The thing was that Trance Garden was not like any other club night. Lennie had stopped going to clubs for years when he had realised that they were full of people who were prettier and cooler than him, and they knew it and did not want to know him. Trance Garden was not like that; there he felt like part of a family; a good, loving family.

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