I lazily drift back from some of the best dreams I’ve ever had. There’s a grinning bobble head on the bedside table that perfectly fits in with my calm mood. The cheap trinket, an Oriental-style cat that looks stolen from a Chinese take-out place, welcomes me back with its constant nod of approval.

How much time has passed? The fog of my blissful sleep still has a powerful grip on me. First, I stumble into a wall, then get my toes tangled in the shag carpet. I eventually find the light switch, mostly by luck, and watch it flicker on with an ugly florescent color. The grey/green glow helps to highlight every cut and bruise in painstaking detail. The haze finally lifts enough to realize the reflection is showing me two things: a bruised man and an empty bed. It takes a couple more seconds to gr...

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