Después de la Carnival
I was always the first awake. My hands massaged the sleep out my eyes and my sunglasses hung for dear life across the side of my face. After realigning the cheap frame I stirred the girl beside me. I didn't know here name but I remember meeting her somewhere between the funnel cake and the bottle of Port. She wouldn't budge. My phone was dead. The cloud cover was thick and I didn't need a watch to tell me that it was too damn early. I rolled up on my heels and rose to my feet, my head being the last thing to follow as it was heavy with last night's revelry. I shouldn't have stood so fast, gravity was not being kind and I slumped down over the railing, my chest hitting metal and my arms dangling over the side. It took my eyes much to many moments but I began to realize that we were up high. Bodies were strewn on the sidewalk below, looked like a massacre. I placed my palms firmly on the railing and pushed back so that I'd plop back on my ass and not forward into the pavement a couple stories below. Every movement was an ordeal. An uncanny weight had sunk into my extremities. Did I eat anything last night besides funnel cake?
