I'm alone.
It's dark.
Three fingers on my right hand smell like cigarettes, even though I just washed them with soap.
My mouth tastes sickly sweet like the morning after binge drinking, even though I brushed my teeth twenty minutes ago.
There's a single tear starting to drip from my right eye where it's been welling up for the last five minutes, even though I'm not crying.

The music stopped playing, even though I didn't want it to.


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