Mr. Sinclair

I stumbled into my room, eyelids heavy and limbs leaden. Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. The weight of the day’s occurrences pressed down on me really badly. I barely managed to peel my clothes off before collapsing onto the bed.

Hell, I’d drink a whole house of glucose before having the balls to summon enough energy to get out of my clothes. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

.

The shrill scream of the alarm clock ripped through my slumber, jolting me awake. Disoriented, and feeling as lazy as hell, I squinted my eyes at the harsh sunlight streaming through the window. Only then did I realize the clothes still clinging to me.

“Damn.” I yawned. “Was so tired that I slept with clothes on.” I groaned as I began to undress with a sigh and stumbled to the bathroom after.

A quick shower and brushing of my teeth did little to dispel the remnants of yesterday’s fatigue. I needed less of days like yesterday.

It had started off well when I was pampered at Shawn’s ma