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Meredith, Blake, and Cristina were sprawled across the bathroom, coming down from a long night of drinking. Meredith was hunched over the toilet, her face pale and sweaty. Cristina sat grumpily in the shower tub, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the tiles. Blake leaned against the bathroom counter, her eyes shifting between her two friends. Despite not being hungover herself, she wanted to be a part of their grumbling.
The bathroom was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bulb above the mirror. The faint smell of alcohol and perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the more unpleasant scent of vomit. Empty bottles and discarded ice cream cartons littered the floor, evidence of their attempt to drown their sorrows.
Meredith lifted her head, her voice slurred and raspy. "It's not us," she declared, waving a hand dramatically. "It's them. Them and their stupid boy penises. They didn't tell me they had a wife. They gave absolutely no warning that they were going to break up with you. They..." She paused, trying to think of a boy problem that Blake had going on. When she came up empty, she just made a noise and shrugged it off, going back to puking in the toilet.
Cristina, her expression a mix of anger and sadness, chimed in. "It's not that Burke broke up with me, it's how he broke up with me. Like it was business. Like it was a business transaction, like he's the boss of me!"
"He is the boss of you," Blake cut in, her voice flat.
Cristina's eyes flashed with frustration. "And what's worse, is that I care."
"I'm gonna throw up again," Meredith grumbled, leaning over the toilet. "No. Wait. False alarm."
Cristina sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look, the problem is estrogen."
