I peel the remnants of myself off the floor around seven. The light burns through at just the right angle exploding through my eyelids in colors of orange and yellow.
Still pools of sands rest around my feet. What time is it, I think. Who knows. My phone resting near my head had a worse reaction to last night than I: dead. The rush from standing alarmed all of my senses both in the head and in my gut. I trip over someone’s duffle bag of clothes and stumbled into the bathroom to the left. The tiled floor is cold to the touch. I go to all fours and purge myself of whatever evil still occupies my stomach. Not much it seems, just bile at that point.
“You alright in there?” A sleepy voice calls from back in the bedroom.
Between gasps I call back, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
The evacuation is cathartic. A rebirth. I shed the old poison and returned to baseline. It takes all of my strength not to slam my head into the bowl. I’m better. Lighter than a feather. I’ve spoken too soon. My head pounds with the passing seconds. Time to retire back to my horizontal sandy kingdom that is the floor in the closet to cup my head in my hands. I pray for a few more hours of clunky rest.