Day 5 Prompt – Write a story about an object in your room.
Warning: Sex implied
My eyelids are heavy and the sun is too bright. My pillow feels like it’s made of carved stone; jagged and abrasive, digging into my skull. Somehow I roll over to see what time it is and then I remember. The empty wine bottle on my bedside table taunts me with glaring obviousness. I remember this bottle wasn’t the only culprit. Its mate rolled under the sofa at some point during last night’s … what?
Am I alone? I groan as I turn again on my feather/cement pillow. I am.
I put my hand to my head as it all starts to come back to me.
We stumbled through my front door already three sheets to the wind. The conference had gone spectacularly, and since your plane couldn’t take off – and since we had hit it off – I offered to let you stay at my…
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