Staggering out of bed that afternoon, it felt like I'd been on a week-long bender.
My mouth was like a desert, and my stomach was collapsing in on itself from hunger.
And I was sticky, sore, strange all over—like being in someone else's body.
Colin had disappeared, and my room felt weird and abandoned. Too quiet, even though the usual sounds of a Sunday afternoon in an apartment building carried through the window and walls. Kids shouting outside. The slam of a car door. Someone running a leaf blower in the distance.
I glanced at the phone I'd left on my bedside table. Nearly four P.M., ugh. I hated sleeping all day.
The phlebotomy kit sat next to my phone, and I winced. Shit, I'd forgotten to draw blood.
As exhausted as I'd been, it wasn't surprising, but still.
Hopefully, the sample I took now would still be useful.
I shied away from thinking about what I'd been doing instead of focusing on my research.
