The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet. Even toothpicks wouldn’t have held these eyes open. They’d snap from the weight of my lids. Half asleep, I stood there, in a daze, trying to remember what had happened the night before. The elves, hammering away in my head, reassured me they hadn’t forgotten. These blackouts were becoming worrisome, not to mention altogether dangerous.

I glanced around the room, still not quite sure where I was. In the distance, I could make out the Manhattan skyline, lazily communing with the haze of morning. The view was a bit daunting, what with my fear of heights, which was rather quickly enveloping me. I turned around, knowing I probably needed more coffee to steady my nerves, and found I had already drained the pot.

My only recourse was to venture out into the noise of the morning commuters. I threw on some clothes, staggered out the door, stepped onto the elevator and fell 20 floors. Lying at the bottom of the elevator shaft, I had, at last, awakened.

 

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