The morning after, Sharla cracked open her bloodshot eyes. Crusty drool. Polluted breath. Throbbing head. Telltale signs of certain impropriety. Peeking over her shoulder, she cringed at the mystery mass burrowed under the sheets.
She remembered last night’s music and dancing, a celebration of her sister’s marriage. The fifth tequila shot erased the lines of decorum. Continue reading