Light, blazing through her eyelids. The burn of vomit and bile in the back of her throat. Pain in the side of her face, down her neck, into her shoulder.
Another Saturday morning. Marianne lifted her head from the concrete kerb, cursing as the hand placed to lever herself into a sitting position landed in the pool of mostly liquid vomit. Another day in Paradise. Another new year. Wasted year. Wasted life — she cut off the thought with…
