Dulce

She steps back as I move past her and let myself into my apartment, shouting my goodbyes over my shoulder.

I toss the bag on the floor and lock up before heading to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes along the way.

Flipping the shower on, I wait for the water to heat up.

Pulling off my wig, I toss it on the counter and pull out all the bobby pins, keeping my hair in place, letting the inky curls fall around my shoulders. I massage my scalp with my fingertips and moan, glad to finally be wig free.

Stepping into the shower, I stand under the spray until the water starts to cool. I wash quickly before climbing back out and wrapping a huge fluffy towel around myself.

Padding to the kitchen, I pour myself a large glass of water and drink it before popping two painkillers as a pre-emptive strike on a possible morning headache.

The pizza has taken the edge off my hunger and even though I could eat more, I’m too tired to bother. I head to my bedroom, drop the towel, and face-plant on my Egyptian cotton sheets.

Reminding myself to set my alarm, I treat my body to a five-minute rest for remembering to set the alarm in the first place.

This, of course, turns out to be a mistake.