Creative Writing, The Weekly Post

My Aching Head

The sun stabbed through my eyelids like a relentless interrogator. Groaning, I tried to recall the blurry details of last night’s escapade, but my memory was tangled in a web of regrets. The room felt like it had shrunk overnight, and every creak of the floorboards echoed through my throbbing skull. As I reached for a glass of water, my hand shook as if it had a score to settle with sobriety. The world outside my window seemed too bright, too loud, as if it were conspiring against the delicate balance within my aching head.

Damned whisky.

Today, I vowed, I’d befriend water and hold the words “never again” close to heart…

Until the next time.

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