No, brown. A brown… something. Hard and cold. Face pressed against it. Can’t lift face. Lift something? Ah, hand moves. Eye lids move.
Eye lids scratch eyes, don’t move!
Feel brown floor. Cold surface, like glass but sticky. Cool to the touch. Cold and warm. Stay still, face. Stay still, hand. Eyes closed, breathe in dust, breathe out bile breath.
Cool and still. Sleep.
Crawl forward, feel carpet. Shove up. Feel carpet and shove up harder, force the body up. Cool brown and then carpet? Bathroom. My bathroom, I hope.
Scrape eye open. Yes.
Roll over. Sore hip, sore ribs, sore arm and head. Light seeps in through the cracks. Slits part, it all pours in. High, white ceiling. Bare walls. Hum of central heating. Thoughtful housemates. Reach for bathroom door handle and pull up.
Stumble into the desk. Mind the monitor. Mind the keyboard. Mind the dreams typed before passing out. Stars and legs and other things. Some in memory, some in writing. Some lost. Stumble away, stumble away.
Horrid taste. Painful taste. Hold onto sink and look in the mirror. Horrid old man. Horrid things said. Wash mouth out, wash it all away.
Bruise on the lower-left corner of the palm, between two glowing blue veins. Water and toothpaste drip from drooping lips and ragged whiskers. Look out the window. Still in a dream.