Waking up, the red morning sun coming though the rose colored curtains. Vera Lynn’s voice is drifting to me from the kitchen, “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…” I roll over to feel the warm spot on the other side of the bed, it’s cold already, winter, it makes everything so cold so fast.                    

“Liz!” I called. “Liz, what are you doing?” humming, the smell of bacon, the low sun in my eyes. I slink out of bed and into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I can’t believe how old I feel, I’m only 25. “Liz, what are you cooking?” no answer. I piss, and brush my teeth. I can’t believe I drank so much last night, my mouth feels like an ashtray made of sandpaper; my eyes, dry and bloodshot.

I walk to the kitchen, there she is, the music is turned up too loud again, I walk to the radio and turn the volume down. I don’t mind the music actually; I just want to get her attention. I don’t have a headache, I just feel dried out.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?” she smiles, lips parting, her large front teeth showing. She hands me two aspirin and a glass of orange juice. I gulp them both down like they’re the last two on earth. “Do you have any cigarettes?” she asks. I go for my coat hanging on the back of one of the chairs in the dining room.

Reaching in the pocket I can feel the receipt from last night, my head pounds with the thought of last night’s drinking spree. We drank with the actions of mad men, as if it would be the last time. I find the cigarettes and light two. I take long deliberate drags off of both and hand her one. She grips it between her first two fingers, cherry pointing up; the smoke rises toward the ceiling fan only to be chopped up and thrown down again by the force of the wind. The sweet smell of the tobacco smoke disperses throughout the house.