Lost Echoes

23

When Harry awoke, he was in his underwear in a big bed in a big room that was really nice, except for spiderwebs in the corners. He sat up slowly, felt as if an elephant were sitting on his head. A thin gush of light was slipping through the dusty beige curtains over the windows.

He propped a couple pillows under his head and tried to go back to sleep, but the body wasn’t having any more of that. He lay there for a while trying to remember where he was.

He was only slightly certain who he was.

He remembered Tad leaning over him and him lying on the wet ground.

Slowly he swung out of bed and put his feet on the floor. It was covered in nice carpet. He wiggled his toes in it.

He put last night together. Joey. The bar. An ass whipping from the bartender. Going upstairs to his place, awakening on the ground, Tad leaning over him.

Shit.

It was morning.

He was supposed to be at the bookstore.

He started to move more quickly, found he didn’t have the energy. But he didn’t want to lie back down. In fact, awake or lying down, his head spun, and so did the world. Sitting up like this, he felt only marginally miserable.

After a time he stood up, noticed his clothes folded on a chair, his shoes under it, a note taped to the bedroom door:

Shower. Please. And use lots of soap. Your clothes have been washed. Fresh towels in the bathroom. Coffee’s made. Tad.