Those bloodshot eyes hinted at what short-term memory couldn’t recapture. The puffy reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror confirmed it must have been one hell of a time. She opened the door and rattled around with shaking hands in search of a fast-acting pain reliever. Maybe a razor to shave the fur off her tongue. Elves must have knitted a tiny sweater and placed it there for warmth during her spinning slumber.
A glass bottle fell to the porcelain sink and shattered, startling her. This hammering headache was bound to linger longer than the temporary fun from the night before.
Photo: Image Catalog via Flickr