“Is it really morning?” he thinks to himself.
He turns to look out the window, slowly opening his left eye.
“It is gawd-awful bright out there.” He turns over and faces the wall. His mouth feels like it is full of cotton balls and his stomach is roiling.
He tries to remember how he got home. Did he drive? Was he in the official car?
A female voice interrupts his thoughts. “Boris, are you ready for some breakfast?”
Boris groans. He spots the unused mask on the bedside table.
“How did that get there?”