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Titania

I wake up the next morning, feeling like a fucked up train wreck. My heart clangs as though it's being pounded, and it's like I didn't get a wink of sleep at all last night. My joints quake as I move, my limbs so tired and heavy. I can't even drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. When I eventually manage to stand and get the shower running, I stand in the cool water for a very long time, letting it stream down my body and disappear down the drain — a mixture of white soap suds and pink.

I washed the blood out of my hair next. I didn't realize there was much of it on me, and to think I'd slept like that last night is appalling. I should change the sheets, hand them over to a dry cleaner later since I'm too lazy to wash them, and I've got a lot of stuff to sort out around the house. When I'm done, I towel my body dry, change into black shorts and a thin, tank top, then sit on the couch with my phone in hand.

I place a dial across to the kind
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