C52 52

I throw up in the bushes to the side of the garden, holding my head as I sway around, shoes in hand and bag dangling down at ankle level. I feel like hell, tired and recounting- how many drinks I had and again gawp in disbelief that I can feel this way on a minimal amount. It hasn’t been that long since I stopped being a seasoned drinker, so there is no way my tolerance has waned this badly