The sunlight is peeking in through the shades and forcefully greeting me. I squint and rub my eyes, taking a moment to digest the unexpected surroundings. Oh yeah, I'm at Jackson's. This is his living room, the same way his parents left it. The wall is still the home of numerous high school and early college photos of Jackson. It's apparent than his parents were very proud of him and made this their personal shrine to his achievements. I don't remember much of the previous night, but I do remember it wasn't filled with drunken debauchery. Had I really dozed off that fast? I remember seeing the opening credits of a movie and not much else. We were both sober. This is good, because it means I don't feel like shit right now. I pull off the comforter and sit up, placing my feet against the carpet. My purse is in the kitchen, so after a few minutes of sitting upright, I stand and go to fetch it. The clock on the stove says six, which means my parents probably aren’t awake. I notice for the first time how sore I feel.
