I awake to hear a shower running and quickly stifle a groan.
Oh God, my head hurts!
How much did I have to drink last night?
I slowly prise open one eye and quickly close it again, the light hurts my delicate hung-over state too much.
I sigh heavily and try to recall what exactly happened last night.
How are you feeling Sweet Peach?” he enquires as he walks across to the chest of drawers, selects a pair of socks and pulls them on.
Sweet Peach? What the hell?
He’s definitely gay …
I shrug. “Er … okay, I guess. I really don’t remember much though. How did I get here … and why am I wearing your t-shirt?” I ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
Hagen laughs nervously. “I brought you home when you couldn’t tell me where you lived. And don’t worry, you got changed all by yourself … in the kitchen … for like an hour.
Mots clés humour funny hangover
The lovely effects of champagne were quite gone and only the nasty ones were left; the taste in the mouth, the splitting ache in the brow and the impotence of not being able to clarify one's thoughts.
Monica Dickens6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,
and I still don’t know which month it was then
or what day it is now.
Blurred out lines
from hangovers
to coffee
another vagabond
lost to love.
Mots clés love alone heartbreak coffee hangover london city broken-hearted left berlin the-glass-child vagambond
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