Once again, another morning where I wake up in a hotel room with no recollection of how I got there. Once again, I stumble over to the double glazed window, pulling the curtain aside, squinting out onto a dreary blanket of grey; grey sky, pavements, tower blocks. My mouth is dry and my head is pounding as I flush an empty baggy down the toilet. The second half of the previous night is black, pure blackness. Throughout the day it will dawn on me, all of the mistakes and the antics. But for now, I rest uneasy in suspense.
“How was your stay?” You’re asking the wrong person.
“Fantastic.” I formulate a response.
He looks up at me with raised eyebrows; “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”
“I wasn’t, I find being nice hard sometimes.”
“Very good madam. Have a nice day.” Tight lipped smile, and a quizzical look in his eyes.
I stop to throw up in a coffee shop toilet.
WORD OF THE DAY: Amnesty. “an official pardon for people who have been convicted of political offences.“
don't listen to me, I'm young and foolish 