I awoke to the warmth of sunlight piercing my eyelids through the abandon apartment window. The uncased pillow and bare mattress I had passed out on was confirmation the previous night was no dream. I stretched out trying to relieve some of the tension in my neck, and back from the position I had slept in. The ashy taste of filth in my mouth, and pounding head was more proof last night had actually taken place.
Still lying there I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pack of smokes. Flipping open my box of cigarettes I sifted out my last joint among my cigarettes, put it between my lips, lit it, and inhaled deep and hard.
I was alone in the room. Had the circumstances been different the morning might have been quite peaceful. I could hear the waves washing up onto the beach not far from the abandon building. The calming sound of the ocean, combined with the T.H.C. lightening the atmosphere put an ease to the anxiety clutching my chest.
Where was everyone? Are they in jail? What happened after the cops came? Asking myself questions of this nature, of which I had no answer to, this soon after waking up hung over in a strange place, only seemed to make me feel worse.“In due time” I told myself.
The joint roach was burning my finger tips now. So, I put it out on the mattress and put it in my pack of New Ports. In doing so I pulled myself out a cigarette and lit it. Inhaling the minty cancer into my lungs I rolled up into a sitting position, and blew the smoke into the sun rays beaming into the room.
Getting to my feet took more effort than I had anticipated. Staggering towards the front door I slid on my aviators. Peeking through one of the front windows side to the door I made sure no one would witness my exit. The coast was clear.