A Day

You wake up in an alley, with cars and people at the end of it. You get up, staggering, leaning against the wall for support. There’s a hammer pounding in your head. You don’t know where you are. There’s no money in your pocket. The cars and people seem to be getting louder. You don't know how you got there.

You start walking.

You walk along the sidewalk, with faces passing by you. There's a resturaunt around the corner, and you look through the windows for a brief moment, stomach rumbling. But someone inside glares at you, and your feet start moving again.

The loud noises hurt your head, making you want to lay down, but disrupting the movement and rhythm of your feet feels like a sin.

During your walk there's a man, not paying attention. Just a slightest nudge sends him to the ground, and you help him up, slipping the wallet in to your pocket. It's foreign money you don't understand, but you'll figure it out.

There's a stand and you buy something from it, something warm and textured. The sun's going down and it's getting colder. The wind pushes you, and the thin jacket around you doesn't do a thing to defend you.

There's a bridge up ahead though, with enough room underneath for someone your size. Before going there, you stop by a Dumpster, digging until you find an abandoned tablecloth wiht stains and tears in it. When you lay under the bridge, the cloth is wrapped around you and your head is pillowed by a rocks with hard corners.

You don't know where you are.

You don't know how you got there.

All you know is that you woke up hugover in an alleyway surrounded by blood with not one speck of it on you.