Jim woke up in pitch darkness. Confused, he tried to lift his head, and felt a far-too-familiar kink in his neck. He groaned.
Fuck. Why am I back on her sofa-bed? Did we have a fight last night or something, and I’m in time-out?
His head hurt, his whole body hurt. He lay still, trying to figure it all out, trying to remember how much he’d had to drink. It must have been an astonishing amount; this was by far the worst, most brutally-painful hangover he’d ever had. He felt floaty and dizzy, disconnected from his own limbs somehow, and he closed his eyes again, took a few deep breaths. He felt sick to his stomach, and he wondered if he was going to throw up.
But did I drink last night? Why can’t I remember?
Images were appearing behind his eyelids and he squeezed his eyes tighter, tryin
