[color=2e3192][h1][center]Alison Fitzpatrick[/center][/h1][/color][color=2e3192][h2][center]Club Carousel, 1:30 AM[/center][/h2][/color]
[img]http://www.boweryboyshistory.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/14.jpg[/img]


To Alison’s dismay, that same psychedelic combination of neon from the outside still bombarded her room when she woke up. She groaned and rolled off the bed. She was still well into the night. After leaning against the side of her bed with her elbows, she finally managed to stand her drowsy body to its feet and stagger into the living room. The lights were out – Julia was gone, and now the living room had been plastered by orange lighting from the club’s sign below. Loud music vibrated onto the floorboards from the club below and rain began to coalesce onto the windows.
	
“Lovely,” muttered Alison as she wandered into the living room. She fiddled with the television until she found something she could lose herself in – she settled for a broadcasted live jazz show. She wanted more than anything to go outside and scale the impossible structures of this place for herself. But, between the rain, her exhaustion, and the surrounding area, she decided to stay in. She would have to see it all tomorrow.
	
As the TV’s quiet drone of jazz washed over Alison’s brain, she mindlessly braided her long, brown hair. She did not quite manage to finish before she sank into the couch and again fell asleep.

[color=2e3192][h2][center]2:21 AM[/center][/h2][/color]

“Hehe—shhh…” Julia’s alcohol-addled voice pitifully attempted a whisper. Vicky’s eyes opened and then immediately shut again, feigning sleep.
	
“What, baby?”
	
“Her. That’s my new roommate.” Julia pointed at the couch.
	
“Oh. Hmm.” Julia’s male companion paused to take a look at Alison. “Looks like you've finally found yourself some competition, Julie.”
	
Julia slapped him across the face and smirked. “You'll change your mind once you hear her talk. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and led him to her bedroom. There wasn’t even a delay before Alison heard the details of intercourse reverberate from Julia’s room. She sat up, groaned, and wandered back over to her bedroom. Alison’s room was directly next to Julia’s, and when she lay down on the bed, she realized that she could not only better hear them, but could feel the vibrations against the wall. 
	
“Ugh!” Alison leapt back out of bed and reached for her coat. She was already beginning to harbor resentment for the woman whom she shared her apartment with. She quickly bolted from the room and headed downstairs. A nightgown reinforced by a coat was a rather foolish choice for the rainy, rambunctious road outside, but she had come to New York to start over. She was going to wear whatever she wanted. She wandered alone down the sidewalk.
	
The lights, the noise, the smell…all of it – Alison was almost overwhelmed as she walked around. Still, she pressed on, sifting through crowds of drunk, jacketed, fedora-donning men and trying to internalize her new home as much she was able. She settled on a bench a few blocks away and sat. Her hair and jacket were now soaked. She sat there in her nightgown alone in the dark. She knew what she looked like and she cared little. This place was what she wanted. She could feel it in her bones.