The wind lazily played with the blanket that was thrown over me. Flew under, tried to lift it, but couldn't, starting it over and over again without concern. My head felt heavy, as if I was waking from a dream, groggy with the intoxicating memories of the night before.
Light seeped through the blinds, molten gold, pooling on the floor, sparkling in the darkness. The silence seemed deep, as if I was under the water.
The room smelled of detergent, maybe lavender, or mint too, so that the chemicals were less overwhelming. Everything around me felt like it was made of wood. The table, the chairs around it, the walls even.
It was one of the most defining traits of the Snake, or let's say tribal architecture, that they used timber for everything. From building to furniture to pots and pans, w
