If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, then it was meant to be. If it doesn’t . . . . But what if that something is a moment in time? Or an opportunity? Or a careless word?
My mind was still hazy as I swayed over the toilet, emptying an unusually full bladder. Ok, so it’s not unusual for me. Besides my throbbing headache, I didn’t have much to remind me of what happened last night. How many nights have I lost to that beast? How many girlfriends? Jobs? Friends?
I didn’t even remember waking up. Did the alarm go off?
Stumbled through the morning routine. Shit. Shower. Shave. Bleed. Brush. Bleed. Dress. Inspect the bare cupboard. Cuss. Drive to Mickey D’s.
I finally stumbled into work. Funny looks, side glances. Occasional gasps. Then I noticed the nametag on my door. NOT my name. NOT my door. How could I forget? That question was quickly replaced by, “how do I get out of here without being seen?”