L.A. Woman
- Reads 7
- Votes 1
- Parts 1
Time is motionless while existence was throbbing, almost unbearable. it's 11:30 AM. Tuesday. The world around me has already woken up; the chirping of the birds on the sycamore tree behind my building gets overrun by the noises of the cars on the other end. I sit up in my bed and, the moment I turn my head, a sharp pang strikes my brain, accompanied with a feeling of nausea. The hopes of having slept off my hangover fade as I reach for the bottle of whiskey on my nightstand.
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