Waking up still drunk at noon on a mattress on the floor. The sun was burning the backs of my eyelids and my phone was stuck to my skin. No missed calls. No text messages. The sheets were tangled around my ankles and sliding off the mattress. Shackles of sleep. Prisoner to the Sunday blues. The lazy afternoons. The sleep has stayed in my eyes all day. The coffee resurrected my swollen mind.