InsaneJournal

Day 5
Who: Ben, open
Where: An cafe with tables al fresco. Ben's at one of those tables
When: Early afternoon


The day was moving on but Ben was only dimly aware of the passing of time. He'd awoken at around 10am with a strange taste in his mouth and an apartment in complete disarray. His initial reaction was that he'd had a break in, but surely he'd never have slept through the noise that the carnage must have caused.

Plus, his joints and muscles hurt like hell.

He thought perhaps he must be coming down with a cold, but his nose was clear. In fact, his nose was working better than it ever had in his life. He glanced down with distaste at his cooling coffee. He'd drink it, of course he would, but he'd never known it smell quite so strongly before. In fact, he'd have sworn that he could smell the coffee bean, the roasting processes, the milk... all as separate components rather than just as its caffeinated whole.

He lifted it to his mouth and held his breath as he swallowed a mouthful, wincing when it hurt his throat. That was another thing - his throat felt as though he'd swallowed a hedgehog whole.

He really had intended leaving his place today with the purpose of exploring a little more of this so-called island he was on. And he had left, it was true. However, by the time he'd found what looked like a little town square he'd been exhausted. His reflection told him he looked at least as bad as he felt and he'd been only too happy to sit at one of the tables outside a small cafe. He hadn't even bothered checking the name of the place. That didn't matter.

He frowned as he tried to think back on what had happened the previous night. He had very vague impressions of things being highly wrong. He remembered panic and pain - and fur. Pale fur. Surely to God he hadn't gone to a "party" and taken something he shouldn't have. No. No, he was certain of that. That wouldn't have accounted for the state of his place, or really for how he felt today.

He decided he'd knock at some of the nearby doors on his way back and see if any of his neighbors had heard anything.

Then, he supposed, he'd really need to tidy up. That was a job he didn't relish, not feeling as sore as he did. His throat aside, he decided he really needed a cigarette, and he reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of Camels and his lighter. He really wished his hands would stop shaking, too.