One hell of a week
So I managed to get out of bed one more time. So what? Of course, I couldn’t remember who’s bed it was. I looked over at him forlornly. No, wait, I looked over at her forlornly. Hell, who cares how I looked at them? Just seeing the two of them curled into one another made me ill.
How sweet. How comforting. How fucking nauseating.
I searched the rumpled clothes for my jeans. Hell, even those were missing. I’d say it was one hell of a night…if that’s all it was. It was more like one hell of a week! And I still can’t remember their names. As if it’s of any importance anyway.