"Miss?"
I heard some guy talking.
"Miss?"
I wish this miss would answer him already.
I was trying to sleep.
Then I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
"Miss, please wake up."
I opened my eyes, irritated that some stranger had the audacity to interrupt the only decent sleep I usually got. The morning sun was already climbing over the Atlanta skyline. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My head still felt heavy from the whiskey. The last thing I wanted was a conversation. Every morning felt the same these days. Wake up with a headache. Remember where I was. Remember who I was. Remember everything I had lost. Then somehow force myself through another day. Sleep was the only part of life that offered any relief, and even that wasn't guaranteed. Most nights Grady still found his way into my dreams.
