The hum of TV static sat in the air while the muffled voices of a daytime courtroom washed through the morning of a drowsy house. As the light began to meet itself through windows and greet the furniture dizzy feet made their way down the hall, disappearing into a cool shower to shake some sense into the bone bag they were carrying. Last nights escapades lay waiting on the couch. Remnants of a night fully spent and traded for tomorrow…

Oh the joy of describing a person as a bone-bag from the perspective of their dizzy (still-drunk) feet. Glorious! The escapades waiting on the couch were going to be inanimate objects that they'd left there the night before - bag of half-eaten chips, receipts, heels, maybe a little spew dashed shirt but as I was writing it I realised it could also be a one-night-stand.  The timer ran out before I could make my mind up about which one I wanted it to be!