I stumble to the bathroom. Amy's open suitcase catches my pinky toe on the way. I am too preoccupied to feel it and pull the small bone out of socket. Hobbling now, I prop myself up at the sink and raise my head to stare down my own reflection. Even in the semi-darkness of early morning I can make out the reddish tinge of my bloodshot eyes.
I taste cheap white wine behind my molars as I walk to class 20 minutes early.
The only sign of human life apparent in the gray morning light is a fat loogie splayed over cracks in pavement I come upon as I pass through empty parking lots.
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