I open my
eyes afraid to move. I don't remember much about the
night before, but I know what consequence it brings. The fear of
pain keeps me absolutley still.
I slowly open my eyes, the light coming through the narrow openings in blinds burns white-hot through my
brain. I clamp my eyes shut, the red traces of light dance along the inside of my eyelids. My mouth is full of cat hair, the remnants of a gallon of
spirits imbibed the night before. I reach over,
unconciously knowing about the glass of water that years of such abuse has conditioned me to keep by my bedside. My eyes open again, slowly reaching focus. I pull myself up on my
elbow, leaning over, each movement sending waves of pain throught my body.
The
water is warm, but soothing, sending comfort down my throat, washing away layers of
filth. Pulling myself up is a hurclean effort. I fight the
agony of each step making my way into the bathroom, on my way there I kick a discarded
wine bottle, the pain in my
foot is overshadowed by that in my head.
As I make my way to the bathroom I pass more bottles. Cheap
Lambrusco, brought by the delivery man with each order of forty
marks or more. We'd been saving them up for a couple months, I went through them in one night. I fish out the
Excedrin and
Mylanta, washing the former down with the latter. Back into the entry way I fish out a stale
bagel and the bottle of
orange juice.
The drugs have started their effects, and I make it to my
desk in a little less pain. I sit down in front of my
computer, choking down the bagel, with some help from the
OJ. There it is sitting on my keyboard, the reason for this excess. A
letter, penned by a one-time love, she tells me that she's met
someone else, that being away from me was too much and she couldn't do it. She'd been seeing someone else for two months. Two months of lies, two months where I thought everything was OK. two months where her memory soothed me through the
horrors faced in southern
Turkey. But now the German
hospitality, the
food, the
beer, offers nothing...