The Morning After
That's the last thing I remember. When I wake up in my bed at Hajun's place the next morning, I feel extremely cheerful. I went drinking during the week without fighting about it with my boss, I had a fun evening with friends, and I am not hungover. Sure, I don't recall the last couple hours of the night that precisely, but that's just part of being drunk. If something truly important had happened, I'm convinced I would have remembered. As I'm making my tea downstairs, I get a sudden urge to use the bathroom. Once I'm done there, I wash my hands and look in the mirror attached above the sink, still whistling. Except that what I see immediately makes me stop dead in my tracks. I gasp at myself. Oh, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. My hair is pink. Bright pink. Granted, it's
- Writer
