I wake up 30 minutes before my alarm, wide awake, and turn it off since there is no point in letting it blare. I have an abundance of energy, probably the same burst of energy people feel right before they die (haha). I don't even have a desire to lay in bed. The shower is calling my name. Before I roll out of bed, however, I look over and check on Nicole, seeing that she is fast asleep, damp hair strewn everywhere, blankets tossed away in the roughness of an unsettled sleep. Getting out of bed, I pull the blankets over Nicole before I make my way into the bathroom.
I look rough. My hair is no longer curly, instead a nest of steel wool. My skin is pale and blotched, eyes bloodshot, lips dry and cracked. I am happy that the hotel provides shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, a hairdryer, and e
