Tuesday 3rd June 2014
No alarm clock had been set for this morning, and it wasn’t an accident. There was a medley of clothing strewn over the floor. There were empty bottles in the bin. Some unrecognisable keys lay just inside the doorway. Someone needed to open a window.
It was the morning after the night before. At least, Kate assumed it was still ‘morning’. The sun streaming in through the half-drawn curtains certainly suggested daylight hours were firmly in progress – and it was promising to be a hot day. She didn’t want to open her eyes; Kate recalled the disorientation of going to bed last night and could only imagine the mess which waited to greet her. “Morning!” … a sprightly greeting she imagined, coming from imaginary lips of the muddle. “Now, clean me up, you bad girl!”
Kate’s legs felt like they were glued to the bed sheet as she attempted to roll over, the light Egyptian cotton sheets almost too much of a physical burden. Blindly fumbling on the unfamiliar nightstand for some paracetamol, placed there yesterday in anticipation of the headache pounding in her temples, she nudged the man sleeping to her right.
It was his turn to wake up.
He looked so peaceful, dammit. As relaxed as a monk on dope. How did he do it? There was no sign of the same aches, exhaustion or plain suffering Kate was experiencing. She’d seen it before, and no doubt, she’d see it again. Many people had a higher tolerance to those kinds of shenanigans than Kate did. It was just so bloody infuriating. Well, irritating at the very least. She couldn’t summon the energy right now to feel an emotion more extreme than ‘irritated’.
Forcing her eyes to open more than a paper cut’s width, she wasn’t sure if it was condensation running down the window panes, or if her eyes were having that much of a problem focussing. It was so damn hot. She tried to remember whose idea this had been.
‘Never again…’ Kate thought.
Wednesday 4th June 2014
This morning, Kate was her own alarm clock. Body clock reset from the events of the last 48 hours, she was ready to go. The more familiar room was tidy and aerated this time, the window blowing in a slight breeze. This morning the sunshine beckoned instead of threatened.
“Up! Up! Let’s go!” Kate cheerfully said, poking the same man in the ribs. “Come on, we haven’t recovered from yesterday to waste today in bed!”
Shortly, you would find man and wife a drink’s spill away from their ocean view balcony. Cocktail in hand, toes in sand. The holiday Down Under was just beginning.
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Born To be A Tourist
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