Refined Tastes

6.30am My phone buzzes, ripping me from sleep. It’s a text message from Annie, that simply reads “being awake is so not legit.” It’s a Sunday. It’s 6.30am. Normally my Sunday routine is to rise around 11am, making whimpering noises until I have a cup of coffee. I then spend the next half hour slumped…

The morning after

Slowly, reality comes, seeping in the edges of the world. Ok. What’s going on? Who am I? Female. Kate. Yes. My mouth tastes like a sock. Do I want to open my eyes? Not really. Compromise, just one? Ok. Eyelid prised open. Is this my bed? Good. Am I alone? Thank god. Where is my…