Throbbing. My head is literally throbbing. And my mouth feels like someone filled it with cotton balls at some point when I was sleeping.
I groan, rubbing my temple as I sit up.At least I still managed to change into my pajamas last night and didn't just knock out in jeans.
God, I need water.
I make sure to sit up slowly, not sure how my stomach will feel. Fortunately, there are no odd movements within my bowels and no wave of nausea completely comes over me. Just a headache and a dry mouth.
My bare feet hit the soft carpet, and I use the bed to push myself up. How I went out drinking four times a week as a freshman in college and still managed to get up in the morning, fresh eyed and bushy tailed, I have no fucking clue. Nowadays, I take one shot and a headache is almost guaranteed.
I hobble down the stairs, demoralized by six mixed rum and kombuchas at twenty-two years old.
Sarah is nowhere to be found, but the discarded newspaper sitting on the glass top of the kitchen table tells me that she's already up and about–probably already had three phone calls.
And here I am–just hanging on for dear life.
Water.
I hold myself up against the counter as I get a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water using the fridge. On my way back to the kitchen table, I grab a banana out of the fruit bowl. Sunlight filters through the French doors next to the dining table, lighting the white room up even brighter, and it's hard to not squint as I chug some water, setting the banana down to rub my temple.
When I put the glass down and begin unpeeling the banana, I notice the newspaper on the table.
The back page of the newspaper is face up and across the top of the page are a few photos of one of the travel vans I seem to see all over my social media nowadays. As I force myself to take a few bites, I examine the ad.
The van is nice. Almost as nice as Sarah's house, really. It has a queen size bed in the back, a mainly wooden interior. Somehow, they managed to fit a stove and a decent-size sink in the small kitchen. And supposedly the whole thing runs on solar power.
I raise an eyebrow. Then, I lower it, my head pounding painfully again, wincing.
Interesting.
After I finish my banana and chug the rest of the glass of water, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the ad.
You know,
just in case Sarah's business calls ever get old.

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Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022
ChickLitOla Murphy is tired of shitty men in her life-and she's tired of being hung up on shitty men. After her dog dies, her apartment floods, and she discovers that her boyfriend is cheating on her with her best friend, Ola finds herself stuck at her cous...