Something from last night has my stomach crying. Must be the alcohol. Must be the bad food. Could be anything. Even the wind here can give me headache. I try to leave the bed but I keep failing. What’s the joy in lying down. What’s the joy in getting up. Hunger keeps a man going. Nothing else. I am just not hungry. A mild headache does make want to get up. I am having one such headache right now. The fridge is running fine, only I got nothing to keep inside it. I can feel the fierce summer returning. My lips are dry and skin smooth as a sandpaper. I sit for a while and allow my head to fall in its place. It takes another twenty minutes for that.
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