SLIM SHADY The Butcher of Detroit 3 ∆M

Marshall was sitting in his living room. He wasn't able to sleep. The fight with Emily still fresh in his mind, and the memory of her leaving, the door slamming behind her, played on repeat in his head.

He didn't mean to snap at her like that, but her comment pushed his buttons and the argument just spiraled out of control.

It wasn't just anger he was feeling now, but a pang of loneliness. Despite the fight, he missed Emily, missed her presence. The apartment felt hollow and lonely without her.

He glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. Emily was probably asleep by now. Or maybe she was out, trying to distract herself from the argument. The thought of her being out without him made his chest tighten with jealousy.

He didn't want to be the one to give in first, to admit that he was wrong. He wasn't used to apologizing. It made him feel weak, vulnerable.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he had skipped dinner. He hadn't even thought about food after the argument, his mind too preoccupied with the fight and the aftermath.

He considered making something to eat, but the thought of cooking, of making dinner for one, only made him feel more lonely. He missed the meals they would share, the way Emily would hum to herself as she cooked, the easy banter they would have over the dinner table.

He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, more out of habit than actual hunger. He opened the fridge and looked inside, not really seeing anything that looked appetizing.

After staring at the near-empty fridge for a moment, Marshall slammed the door shut in frustration. He wasn't hungry anymore, but the thought of sitting alone in the apartment made him feel cooped up and restless.

He glanced at the clock again. It was late, but he knew a few clubs would still be open. Maybe going out, meeting new people, or just drowning his thoughts in music would help him forget about the argument with Emily, even if just for a night.

Decision made, Marshall grabbed his keys and headed for the door. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside; it was a welcome relief from the oppressive silence of his empty apartment. As he walked towards his car, he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and prepare himself for the noise and crowds of the nightclub.

The drive was short, and soon he arrived at the club. Music thumped from inside, the bass reverberating through the night air. He could see the colorful lights flickering from behind the closed doors, hear the laughter and voices of people inside.

He stepped out of his car and walked towards the entrance. The bouncer at the door gave him a cursory glance and nodded, letting him in without any hassle. Marshall pushed his way through the crowd, the thumping beat of the music nearly overwhelming his senses.

He made his way to the bar, pushing past people dancing on the dance floor. As he waited for the bartender to notice him, he looked around the club, taking in the colorful lights and the sea of people. It was a different world than the quiet, intimate atmosphere he shared with Emily, and it made him feel oddly detached from everything.

The bartender finally noticed him and asked for his order. Marshall ordered a shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp as soon as it was placed in front of him. The alcohol burned his throat, but it also dulled the sharpness of his thoughts.

He ordered a second shot, still feeling restless and unfulfilled, the bitterness matching the taste in his mouth. He leaned against the bar, sipping his drink and watching the people on the dance floor.

They all seemed so carefree, so unburdened by the troubles of life. Marshall felt a pang of envy, wishing he could lose himself in the music and the moment like they did.

His thoughts kept returning to Emily, despite his best efforts to push them away. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, the way she would curl up next to him on the couch, her head on his chest.

He downed the last of his drink and pushed away from the bar, heading for the dance floor. Maybe physical exertion would help him forget about her, even for a moment.

He found a spot in the crowded dance floor and lost himself in the music, moving to the beat, letting the music take over his body. But as he danced, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. The people around him seemed like strangers, their faces blending together in a sea of unfamiliarity. None of them were Emily, none of them had her warmth, her familiarity, her comforting presence.

As the night wore on, Marshall found himself growing weary from the physical exertion and the alcohol. The initial thrill of the nightclub was fading, replaced by a sense of loneliness and melancholy. He couldn't escape the memory of Emily, the fight that kept replaying in his mind. The music and lights no longer helped him forget; instead, they seemed to emphasize the emptiness he felt without her.

As he stood on the dance floor, his mind lost in thought, a young woman approached him. She was tall, with long, sleek hair and smoky eyes. She smiled at him, her lips curving into a flirty pout.

__The young woman: "Hey," she said, shouting over the thump of the music. "You look like you could use some company."

He took her in, from her tight dress to her confident smile. Despite his thoughts still lingering on Emily, he couldn't help but feel a slight stirring of interest.

__Marshall: "Uh, yeah. I guess I could use some company," he replied, trying to sound casual and nonchalant."

The woman smiled wider, sensing his interest. She moved closer to him, her body now just inches away from his. She smelled like expensive perfume and her bright red dress clung to her curves in all the right places.

__Lana: "I'm Lana," she said. And you are?"

Her body brushed against his and her lips lingered near his ear. The closeness and the warm puff of her breath against his skin sent a shiver down his spine.

__Marshall: "Marshall," he answered, his voice a bit rougher than he intended. The closeness, the subtle scent of her perfume and her soft curves were a stark contrast to the emptiness he had been feeling all night. It was strange, but for a moment, he forgot about Emily.