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Aftermath
by Nicole Larson

My head was pounding–absolutely pounding–when I woke up. A spear of sunlight had shot through an errant slat in my vertical blinds and lanced right into my eye, waking me up. The pain was close to unbearable, but I didn’t have the strength to stand, or even move, other than to drape a hand over my eyes. I told myself to go back to sleep. Too early to deal with a hangover, especially one of the epic proportions this one seemed to be taking on. It was as I was falling back under I noticed movement next to me. Strange, because I’ve been alone in this bed for the last six months. I took my arm away from my eyes, and somehow managed to crook my head around and coax my eyes open.

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Aftermath

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