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Mason’s eyes flickered open, a dim light shinning in his bloodshot eyes. Pushing his head back till it hit the surface of where he laid, he sighed deeply. He tried to sit up, but his head felt to heavy and his mind too confused to do so. Instead, he turned slightly so he could see his surroundings better.
“Oh.” He whispered. Mason found himself in the bathroom, laying in the tub staring at spots of vomit and bloody tissues littered the cold tile floor. Pushing his arms on the sides of the tub with the little strength he could muster mason lifted his body up, bones popping with the achey movement. Stepping out of the tub, avoiding his reminders of last nights poor choices, he made his way to the kitchen.
He stared at a table with a scrap covered plate and a glass of lukewarm water with a layer of dust atop its delicate surface. He sat down at the table, staring at the glass. He could easily disrupt the peace within the glass, destroying the calm unmoving layer with his finger would be a small movement with no repercussions; so mason did it. He regretted the motion.
For that whole day, he had stared at the glass, while crackled records played behind him. A whole day. He wasted a whole day staring at a glass of water.
“It’s already nine.” Mason tended to talk to himself, being his own friend.
“You need to eat, but you don’t wanna cook. I still have that noodle thing though…” mason muttered as he stumbled to the freezer, reaching for the handle. He grabbed the mean, opening it and shoving the plastic container in the microwave.
Mason sat down at the table, pushing away the leftover food plate and putting the microwaved meal before him, as well as a dusty glass of lukewarm water.