Post by Izabella A. Bogatyryova on Feb 14, 2017 22:51:00 GMT -5
¤ Timothy John Reid ¤ NOTES
There was nothing quite like that dizzy, nauseous feeling of waking up with a hangover. That momentary feeling of weightlessness before the world comes spinning around you and you try to figure out where you were and how close the bathroom was. It's only made worse when you start to come to and realise...you actually have no idea where you are.
With a groan, Izabella rolled onto her side, her dark brown hair covering her face until she pushed it back. Last night's activities made her stomach roll and she momentarily thought maybe she should have taken it easy. Memories of the previous night blurred in front of her. Bar after bar, drink after drink. Faces of strangers, mostly men...did she actually do anything with anyone? Pausing a moment, she held her breath. No. Relief flushed through her.
Then there was some muscly guy...Australian maybe? A random flat and then...
And then last night decided it wanted to catch up with her.
Hand over her mouth, she rolled off the bed. Barely noting that she was in completely different clothing she covered her mouth and ran for the bathroom. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered where she was. Switching directions on a dime (which really did not help her stomach) she went the other way and just barely made it to the toilet before she started puking.