on hope

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound But while you debate half empty or half full It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown.- Death Cab For Cutie (Marching Bands of Manhatten)
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I think I'm still drunk,

I say with a cool washcloth blocking any hint of light from creeping up to worsen the headache I feel. I close my eyes and let water drip down my temple and splash the white pillowcase beside my head.

My friend laughs, I hear the water run in the hotel bathroom, the door open. I hear light footsteps walk into the room, a touch at the foot of the bed.

When did you wander in last night?

I contemplate a response, forced to rethink the evening before.

I remember it in clips-

First us girls, sipping our drinks, wandering if we should wander down to the big party.

Then it was just a few friends, and a lot of shots. Shots to Ben. Shots to Lindsey. Shots to make me feel less sober than I did at that moment.

It didn't really work for me,

But Lindsey wasn't around the rest of the night.

I remember going up to my room. Going to slip my key in the door. Trying to be soundless. Seeing him in the hallway, trying not to be seen in return; of course you're only invisible when you don't want to be, and I get called out to.

Wait!

I pause at the door, wandering if I could just pull the key out, slip in the room before he makes it down the hall. He'd have to guess which door was mine- but he'd probably guess right.

I feign a smile.

Hey, hows it going?

He can't have anything worth telling me, can he?

I guess wrong- and cringe now from the comfort of my bed.

That late, huh?

I groggily touch the washcloth, lifting it slightly to peer out. She sits at the foot my bed, smiling back at me.

I was back by 5,

I say, glancing at the clock before letting the cool touch once again obscure my vision.

Five,

five in the morning. That means I still have several hours unaccounted for.

I try to think back, but it doesn't all come to me, not all in order. Not all making sense.

Wasn't I in a room again? Was that before I went back to my room, ran into him? Or earlier.

I think earlier.

I just remember the moment where I realized I messed up.

When the words said to me made sense,

and I just stopped caring.

I don't want to think about it.

I missed Fergielicious- probably the best karaoke moment of the night that I didn't get to enjoy.

I stand outside with all the drunk people that like to smoke- I hate smoking.

I don't remember hearing you come in.

Her voice brings me back to the room, and I force myself to breathe-

just breathe and relax and maybe the room and the darkness will stop spinning and something will make sense.

But I doubt it.