July.
The morning light started to seep itself through the closed blinds, like an unwelcome visitor, reminding me of the end to the night. I looked around the unfamiliar room. The clothes in a heap on the floor, of which only half were mine. The hanging pictures of the unknown smiling groups of friends seemed all to be looking at me, but their smiles seemed like judging smirks. The naked man who was snoring next to me with his unwanted hand grazed across my bare chest.
I gently slid it off, as not to wake him and sat up, kicking my feet off the bed and firmly planted them on the bare wooden floor. I tried to get my bearings as I felt the oh too familiar headache of a hangover start to pound in my head like a children’s brass band playing the national anthem, and none of them were in key! Continue reading “David by Michael Mann”