Slim sunrays streamed through my bedroom windows, obnoxiously bright, warm on my skin, coercing me from sleep. My eyes opened reluctantly, squinting, both from the intruding sun and from the immediate headache that pounced me.Hangover.Today would be a lethargic, mood-swinging day, I could tell.Slipping out of bed, I dragged myself to the bathroom. My reflection, a horror show, stared back at me in the mirror; cognac irises surrounded by lashes like palm tree leaves, a heart-shaped face disastrously mascara-blotched and lipstick-smeared. Twenty-six inches of chocolate brown ripples tangled in knots. I looked like death.Deciding on a long, hot shower, I stripped down and hopped under the steaming stream. Almost instantly, my muscles began to relax. Tossing my head back, I let the water beat down on my face, the heat stinging my already sensitive skin. I. Am. Such. A mess. The tragic and unexpected news I’d received last night still had me a bit on edge. Though, why I was “shocked
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