Sydney woke, her head causing swimming in a haze. Raising it slowly, ever so slowly, she realized where she was. Sitting on her armchair.
#Correction, sprawled on my armchair.#
Slowly her mind tried to piece together what had happened.
#Eric. Dinner. Wine. Scotch. Oh, god, not the scotch.#
She glanced at the nearly empty bottle on the table, her fears being confirmed. She raised her head and looked around her apartment. The plates were littered around the kitchen, along with the empty wine bottles. She stood up slowly, immediately regretting it. Clutching her stomach she ran to the bathroom. Swinging the door open she dropped hurriedly to her knees in front of the toilet, proceeding to displace the contents of her stomach down the pristine white bowl. When the tremors finally subsided Sydney lent her forehead against the rim, taking deep breaths and cringing from the taste of vomit in her mouth. Reaching up a shaky hand she flushed the toilet, steadily getting to her feet. Sydney flicked on the light in the room and stood in front of the mirror.
#Real attractive, Sydney.#
Splashing cold water on her face she tried to make her appearance resemble something of the norm. It far from worked. Her pale, washed out face stared back at her through blood shot eyes. Red wine stained the side of her mouth and her hair hung limply about her ghostly face. Using a band from her wrist she pulled her hair from her face, fixing it up in a ponytail. Picking up her toothbrush she proceeded to scrub away the taste in her mouth. Returning it to its rightful place her hand reached inside the cupboard from some aspirin. The her head shot up, at an alarming speed, forcing her to groan.
#Sark#
Cautiously she stepped out of her bathroom, the aspirin forgotten, and peered in both directions. Her bedroom door was still tightly shut. No one had been in there, she knew instinctively. Then her eyes unexplainably shot to the guestroom. As silently as she could she slipped inside the room her hand reaching in the dark for the vase by the bed. She clicked the light on, ready to face anyone, only to be met with an empty room. Dropping to the floor in a flash she looked under the bed.
#No one there either.#
Standing up she looked over at the wardrobe. Walking quietly towards it she held the vase above her head and swung the door open, her body tensing, ready for a fight. Al she was met with was a single blazer, resting neatly on a hanger.
#My hanger. Not my blazer.#
The young woman's eyebrows rose questionably. Still clutching the vase tightly she made her way to the main living area.
It was then that she saw him. Sitting out on her balcony, in the morning sun, with his back to her.
#Sark#