You wake up with the smell of stale alcohol curling around your nose and the familiar fuzz of a night's heavy binge on your tongue. The sunlight makes your eyes squint despite your efforts to pry them fully open, and that's when you remember. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to be lying here, feeling empty and apathetic, as if it was just another dream that you had while you slept another night without her. You swing your legs out the side of the bed with a groan as the sudden move disorientates you. The carpet is soft between your bare toes and you remember the softness of her shirt. Years of wear and washing having leached the colour and roughness from the fibers. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the image you make your stumbling way to the bathroom. Leaning heavily on the cold porcelain sink. Cool and smooth and you think, that that's what your heart must feel like. So many nights hoping for just this, and now, it's wrong. It's all wrong. It was meant to be special, not a drunken fumble in the dark, smell of vodka from her breath and the desperate edge the drink gave you both. You were meant to be swept away by her kisses, not staring over her shoulder and wondering about the crack in the wall. You'd like to say you'd do anything to take it back. Truth is, you wouldn't. It wasn't even important enough to fully regret. It was just, something that happened. It shouldn't have, and it was cheap and demeaning but you let it happen and through the entire thing, you were still partially convinced you were dreaming and that you would wake up in a sweat, staying up the rest of the night rather than go back to that. So as the scalding water of the shower hits your body you wash yourself with a new enthusiasm, imagining the water turning black as it touches you, washing away the mistake. With your head resting on the cold tiles you think, that apathy is a terrible thing.