“I don’t know where we are; somewhere Leila brought us. Sarah’s here too but I think she’s dead.” I watch as she slides ungracefully off the bar where her body previously was, and she ends up in a disheveled heap on the floor, behind her bar stool between two men who are seemingly ignoring her. For someone who thinks Sarah might’ve died I don’t seem overly concerned. I trip toward her a little, stooping to see if she’s breathing, almost losing my balance, and nearly fall on top of her. “Never mind. She’s just snoring,” I slur down the phone with a dramatic sigh of relief. I slump down on...