He wasn't sure if it was the lights, the birds, or his conscious that woke him. Uprighting slowly, he rubbed at his eyes. The room slowly coming into focus, the lights on, the show he had been watching half finished, and the empty bottles of alcohol scattered around him jumping into focus.

A mess of clothes, books half open and partially read magazines created an odd mosaic on the floor. His desk a cluster of papers, empty bottles, and cups provided more variety to the picture coming into view. Having slept in the previous days clothes he peeled them off himself before attempting to stand up. Rushing up to his head, the blood flushed his face and forced him to sit back down for a moment. Breathing slowly, he tried a second time, standing up slowly and stepping out of his room.

The orange glow of a dim bathroom bulb greeted him with a hum. Keeping one eye shut, he opened the mirror cabinet and withdrew his toothbrush. Letting loose on his teeth and tongue, he scrubbed and scrubbed. The taste of alcohol and yeast removing itself from his mouth with each rinse of the mouth. Washing his face, he attempted to remember why he had started drinking.

With no clear recollection, he shrugged at himself in the mirror. Asking himself soundlessly as he looked into his own face, did he need a reason? It wasn't like he did this often, and he had had fun. Watching the show while slightly buzzed had made it funnier than usual. With no alochol left in his house it was doubtful he'd do it again soon. After a final rinse he left the bathroom, shut off his light and crawled into bed. The blankets wrapping around him and providing a comforting pressure, he turned onto his side and fell asleep.

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