ah well

She looked like Anna Karina drinking quietly in a cafe in 1960's Paris; I looked so-so. She smiled the most flirtatious smile; I gawked back tipsily. She regaled me with amusing anecdotes; I fiddled awkwardly with the ashtray on the counter. She drank gin and tonic; I mostly stuck to mineral water, whiskey, wine and rum & coke. She talked Plath, Bukowski and Yeats; I wondered what she looked like naked. She laughed at my jokes; I laughed at them too.

-----

This morning I woke up with a headache and a vague recollection of the previous night's encounter. I guess I shouldn't have had that final shot of whiskey before sleeping. Heck, who was I kidding, I should have stuck to mineral water to begin with. Gradually adjusting my eyes to the sunlight shimmering through the open blinds, my faded vision returned to focus as I gazed at the alarm clock, 10 AM already. I felt like groaning, but nothing but a sigh dragged its way out of my dried-out throat. I stumbled into the kitchen where I fixed myself a perfect mug of latte... and then spilled it all over the floor. Christ, what a fucking mess, I muttered to myself while mopping the tiles, and crawled back into bed.

Outside my apartment the morning came to life as usual. Birds chirped in the distance, a gentle breeze flowed through the open window, a child screamed in the hallway, the newlyweds next door quarreled, the traffic sounds... Ah, fuck it. I rolled over to the other side and went back to sleep. Never was much of a morning person anyway.