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.