The Sunday after is the same as all the other Sundays before. Always the same. The sunrises and peers through the bedroom window. Where Lincoln's bed sits. The sun blasts directly in his face. of course, it doesn't wake him up. Why would it? With the amount of partying he did the night before. Its sometimes a wonder he wakes up at all. No, he is gonna sleep right through it. It'll be at least noon before he even starts to stir and just like all the Sundays before. Noon does eventually arrive.
As he starts to crack open his eyes, the light coming from outside blinds him. First thought of the morning "I have to hang a fucking curtain in front of this stupid window." Lincoln slowly kicks the covers off his body. As he slowly sits up. He can feel the ache all over from the weekend festivities. He sits on the edge of the bed and tries to recall the happenings of the night before.
There is a.plate of half eaten food on the end table by the bed. Thats normal. drunk munchies. everytime. He rubs his face and looks around the room. He is in there all alone but thats normal. everyone in the house is usually up before him. he stands up and feels his knee want to fold under him. He looses his balance for a second but catches himself on the side of the bed.
"guess I over did last night." He thinks to himself with a twinge of shame.
ah, well, thats part of the gigs. you either give it all or just stop. or atleast thats how he thinks of it. He steps out of his bedroom and looks around. his wife is sitting on the couch like always. Watching her shows and handling the kids. As he walks into the living. He catches her eye.
"Morning baby." She says slightly sarcastically. "How did you sleep?".
"Fine" he replies. "I have to get something to drink, I'm fuckijg thirsty as all hell. where are the kids?".
She watches him limp to the fridge.
"Hurt you knee again, huh?"
"yeah." He says with a smoker ls grunt.
" You know, you have to stop pushing so hard. You're not 20 anymore." she said with a slight amount of parental tone.
"yeah, I know. but you know me. either I go all in or I just don't go." He said as he grabbed the first cold liquid he could grab from the fridge. water? coke? sprite? milk?
He didn't give a shit. His throat was destroyed from all the drinking, screaming and smoking. He walked back into the living and sat down in his chair that was in the corner of the room.
his wife paused her show and looked over at him, slightly concerned. slightly agitated. He could tell where this conversation was about to go. They had been married a long time. He could tell her mood by the taste in the air.
"soooo, do you remember last night?" she asked.
She knows he doesn't. thats the trap but a repky is expected.
"Fuck no" he replied with a smile. "How bad was it? did we get into another fight?".
"we should have, but...
well, he knew where this was going and it wasn't gonna be good. the sunday after is always the same. maybe thats his fault.