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22. The Next Morning

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There is a mind-numbingly bright light coursing through my window. It's the Richmond District in San Francisco for chrissakes. It should never be this sunny here!

A very annoying someone is bellowing, but I can't understand the words.

Oh, for fu—... Ugh! My head!

I clamp my hands to my ears, trying to shut her out.

"Stop yelling," I croak. "Geezus, stop yelling."

Lord, even the sound of my voice hammers in my head. An ear-splitting ringing adds to my suffering. Please, please make it stop! I promise to be good. I promise never to think evil thoughts, or spout rude and crude things to seek revenge on any man ever, ever, again. Just make the pain go away! Just. Make. It. Go. Away.

I wait a moment, hoping for an answer to my prayers. It hurts all over, making me groan. There is no god! The inside of my mouth is so dry, I wonder if I swallowed my entire stash of cotton balls. I am desperate for something to quench

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