Distilled to its essence

She introduced me to whisky, but the taxi ride was so damn long it sobered our mood.

Her dog got sooky and insisted on sharing the bed.

The bathroom was overflowing with exotic hair products, like some sort of hair laboratory.

At brekkie, she asked, "How many toasts?" and I thought the pluralisation cute.

Ditto her powder blue jumper.

She let me call in pretend-sick from her landline, then drove me all the way home.

The only continuity would be the whisky.