The Morning After (J.C. Chasez)

Last night was incredible; I wonder if she enjoyed it.
Should I purpose? Good grief, what a stupid thing to ask myself.
Maybe we’re moving too fast… Should we slow down?
What a week; darn, what a week.
It’s cold in here.
I could sure go for a sausage biscuit.
I’ve got to take a get up.

The darkness replaces it’s self with sunlight, and the left side of the bed vacant, and an alarm clock that says 9:43.

   …             …            …
Inhale      exhale      blank

Maybe she got up too.
She didn’t leave, she didn’t leave.
Maybe she’s making us some breakfast.
She’s still here… I know it.

<slam> <click>

Maybe she wanted to smoke a ciggerette and didn’t know that I smoked too.
Does she like to read the newspaper? She might have gone to get one.
Last night, that was incredible – I wonder when she’s coming back.

Eyes open again as his optic nerves scream in pain, 10:12.

Well, she probably left a note.

<stands up, walks to the living room and sees the locked door>

…pain
Broken…
It…

…Hurts