I was woken up too early and from a sex dream that wasn’t going well. Hunger pangs bled all over the double shot of regret and self-loathing I was cradling; I wanted to throw up, shit, or just make it all stop. To be fair, I didn’t eat well the day before, nor in any time I could remember, but that was just the entree to my misery. I was remembering how it feels to be punched in the soul by some kind of love, for her. Then, twenty hours later, I was alone in a café heading to the airport wearing her shirt, and waiting for the world to fall back into place.