Strangely

There is nothing worse than opening your eyes in the morning and realizing you’re in a strange place. This wasn’t my ceiling fan, or my crimson drapes blocking the sunlight…. nor was that my hand draped across my chest.

Scratch that. There is nothing worse than waking up next to someone you don’t know. With a headache that pounds with nagging regret. Who the heck is this guy? Why can’t I remember anything about last night? My throat so so dry I would kill for a glass of water.

And just when my anxiety picks up the pace and my heart beats faster at the strangeness of it all, I realize that the worse thing that morning wasn’t the strange room or the strange man. No. It was the fact that the strange man, in the strange room, was strangely dead.