Things really don't work out after a hangover.

Do you know that feeling waking up in the morning and just wondered, what the hell happened.

I was having a pleasant dream of meeting Taylor Swift face to face backstage of her reputation concert till I was woken up by my roommate's denim pants thrown on my face.

My head felt heavy when I got up. And the scent of alcohol was all over the room.

Getting up from bed, or so I thought I was on. I found myself sleeping on the living room couch. Stained over a spilled beer that's been dried overnight.

Not only the couch, but the whole place was a mess. 

Beer bottles where on the floor, pizza slices were scattered on the counter, and the carpet smelled like a drunkard owned it.

"Hey man, have you seen my phone. I feel like it's here somewhere?" Jordan asked still tipsy from yesterday.

"I just woke up, what do you think my answer will be." I sarcastically implied.

I yawned. He ignored my response and continued searching. 

I walked my way to the fridge to grab a glass of water to ease up the headache.

"Found it."  He said while he's under the carpet.

"Cheers." I raised my glass.

He walked to the fridge and put his phone on the counter. My heart raised when I saw the time on the screen. 12:07pm.

"It can't be." I reached in my pocket to grab my phone. The moment I tried turning it on.

It was dead.