February 19th, 2013

Stiletto #1

The sun streams in through the window, hitting you squarely in the closed and formerly-sleeping eyes. You silently curse whoever had the brilliant idea of facing your bedroom window to the southeast. You then add on another curse to yourself for apparently flopping into bed last night without closing the thick curtains you obtained specifically for the purpose of remedying the architect's oversight.

Your groggy brain registers a dull, inexorable headache pressing on your eyes and frontal lobe, as well as several achy muscles. Is this what a hangover feels like? You only had like two drinks at the whole five-hour reception—the super-fancy imported Champagne for the toasts, which was so expensive that Jani insisted all the bridesmaids finish their glasses so as not to waste any; and a few sips of the very classy (very dry) wine that cute guy brought you when he was flirting after neither of you caught the bouquet or garter. So a drink and a half.

Your mouth is dry, your head hurts, and you feel like you're too tired to do much more about the window than think about it really hard and hope to close the curtains telepathically.

What now?
> More Sleep!

Your turn to do some writing! Leave a comment with what you think our intrepid heroine should do next. Commands can be simple, like what you might find in a text-based computer game such as "LOOK AT—" or "GO TO—", or they can be more complicated, like "gather up a large crowd of fuzzy purple teddy bears and organize a nice Virginia Reel. And play something smart and classy like Hank Green's 'Strange Charm,' none of that boring instrumental silliness." On Friday, I will pick the command(s) I think will move the story along in the best or most interesting way and write the next segment from there.