021: Hangover

Autumn's head throbbed with a dull, aching sensation as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her entire body, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, ached in unison, as if each muscle was protesting her awakening. A low, husky moan escaped her lips as her vision gradually transformed from a blurry haze to crystal clarity. Her gaze bounced around the room, drinking in the familiar comforts of her room.

Her palms, fragile and trembling, grasped the softness of her mattress, struggling to anchor herself to steady. Her mouth felt parched, her dry throat itching to be scratched. She blinked again, wincing as the shock of the light finally assaulted her sight. With a rough, scratchy cough, she swiftly cleared her throat, and with a surge of energy, she swept her leg over the side of the bed, her foot thudding against the cool, wooden tile of the floor.

As she stood up, Autumn took a long, hard look at herself, noticing she was changed into her favorite silk pajamas, a soft, pale bl