Ford glared at the two girls as they walked away. When they had gone out of sight, Ford sighed and dropped back onto the ground. With a cough, blood spattered all over his robes and hands. Bloody hell.
Laying on the floor, he stared up at the ceiling as it spun above him, slowly reducing in its angular velocity. For a moment, Ford's mind was blank. Then he thought, What the hell is wrong with me? Something changed inside Ford, something was different. His life was crap. He had alienated his ex-girlfriend, a potential girlfriend, another ex-girlfriend with whom he might have repaired to friend, and potentially his best friend. He really had nobody.
He suddenly noticed that ceiling had stopped spinning, and determined that to be a good sign to get up. Slowly and deliberately, he did so. Picking up his pack he walked towards the door, wiping the blood from his face.