Blurred Nightmare

Blurred Nightmare

Dizzy as I was, I stood up on my three legs. No, it was two legs and my right hand or… was it the left one? I haven’t cleared the image, yet. It was all blurred. I crawled to the kitchen and prepared a strong coffee. Between me and the fridge was the milk bottle. As I stretched my hand to catch it, a sound of broken glass made my head buzzing. No milk in the coffee I thought and the words echoed in my brain like playing one another till I reached to the window. I lied down and threw a sharp glance through the window. A blur image of the smoggy, soundly, hostile city at night with cars, noise and trembling lights attacked my brain. I covered my face trying to think the day before. I spent the night in a bar with friends celebrating one’s divorce. Drunk as I was, I slept all the other day. But what caused me that mess in my head, stomach and my vision. I tried to phone to others so as to learn what about. No one answered to my call. Trying to solve the mystery I looked once more through the window in front of me. New waves of ripples in my head from the attack of the cars noise and lights trespassed once more my brain. I shut my eyes immediately and a bony finger coming from nowhere showed to me a tequila bottle. Light fell into my mind as I realized that the tequila we were drinking the night before it was… bomb, fake distillery, adulterated. I drunk the rest of my coffee uneasily and before fall to sleep for the next two days I‘d made some phone calls to the office declaring heavy illness cause by, what else… food poisoning.


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