The Morning After
Sunlight fell in stripes on his stomach. He stared at them until his eyes hurt. His body felt anchored to his bed, like the nightmares were still in his head, making it heavy and awkward.
He could hear his mother banging around in the kitchen. She must have been doing it on purpose, trying to get him up so that he would go see her. He wasn't sure he wanted to. Pieces of the night before were beginning to leak back into his head. They pressed down on him, holding him down on the mattress.
He heard his mother yank open a cabinet and pull something out, probably a coffee mug. He could smell the Folgers brewing. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he had to get up eventually. He swung his legs out of bed. The floor was cold on his soles and he curled his toes involuntarily.
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