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Head buzzing, she stumbled away from the noisy crowd to the river. The rain beat down, bouncing off the raging water. She spread her arms, welcoming the lashing downpour, relishing the sensation of wet clothes against her skin, laughing at the crow next to her on the slippery rock.
The next day, nursing a bad headache and the beginnings of a head cold, she realised that standing in a rainstorm was no antidote to too much alcohol, and that bloody crow had crapped on her dress.