Chapter 7: "The Walk Home"
There's Nothing Quite Like a Walshyys Party — Chapter 7: "The Walk Home" The music had finally faded. The last sparkler fizzled in an empty beer bottle. The flamingo was deflated. Baz had passed out wrapped in the unicorn float like some kind of inflatable burrito. Even Govna’s fog machine had given up, releasing one last puff of smoke like a tired old wizard. Sgt. Salty stood by the gate, hands in his pockets, shirt unbuttoned, and frosting still mysteriously clinging to his left elbow. “Heading off, mate?” asked Walshyys, now wearing nothing but socks and a traffic cone hat. Salty smiled. “Yeah. Before I turn into a statue of myself.” He gave a final nod to the few remaining partygoers. Sarah blew him a kiss from a pile of beanbags. Susan waved, still holding a plate of leftover cake. Ashfling raised her glass like a queen from the shadows. And then… he walked. The night was cool and quiet now. A gentle breeze blew confetti across the footpath. The moon followed him li...