025 Fugitive Flower

#077

1.

Day 11 morning.

“Hmmm….”

I got out of bed late.

The fluffy microfiber blanket, the plush bed like sleeping on a cloud.

An upper-class air, worlds apart from a cheap second-floor rented room.

“Ugh, damn, my head….”

I downed the hangover liquor I’d left by my bedside, popped some headache pills into my mouth, and waddled naked into the shower room.

-Swoooooosh...