The morning decided to arrive and I had to go along with it.
Somebody said how was your weekend?
It was hard to reply. I was feeling like a particularly slow-witted zombie after the drastic action of the night before.
The drastic action meant getting out of bed. It meant descending into the weird world of two am downstairs. I'd last visited this place, on a regular basis, when I'd lost my job and wondered how I'd ever manage to keep the roof over our heads.
The cupboard, luckily for me, contained a box of very strong painkillers. I sat in the armchair for a while and waited for them to get to work.
Now I would have to do the same.
How was my weekend?
I thought about how the moon had looked through that 2 am window. The roof still in place.
Just fine, I said. Just fine.