“THE DAY AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE”

By

Tina Nelson

CHAPTER ONE

I slowly opened my eyes.   A little sliver of light was trying to peek through the edge of the shade covering the window in my bedroom that over looked the back yard.  Normally, it was a pleasant light, but this morning it hurt my eyes,  so I quickly closed them again.

A few vivid images of a more than slightly out of control young woman dancing with abandon at Doyle’s last night flashed through my mind like a movie trailer.  Yup, that was me.  I winced.  A bad movie trailer.

I remember pulling out the little notebook I always carry and then writing down  my observations on all the drunken people around me.

They were dancing and drinking and, being mostly drunk myself, not knowing how pretentious I appeared and in fact, was.

But last night I did not care one straw.

I wondered what nonsense I had thought was so wildly insightful the night before when 6 (maybe more?) whiskey sours had given me such a false sense of importance.  Whatever it was it was in my notebook.

I slowly turned my head on my pillow.  Lately I had had too many mornings like this one to know how painful a quick turning of the head could be.  I was becoming very learned in the art of drinking or rather, over-drinking.

And there it was, lying on my bedside table where I had thrown it last night.

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