The Morning After the Thirty Years Before

By ChicagoTunnelKid

Vincent slowly became awake, aware that, though he had slept, it was not enough. But why? Flashes of memory occurred – music, dancing, dining, and wine, a lot of wine. He draped an arm across his aching forehead, vowing to never drink again, even as he knew he would break that vow.

What was the celebration about? That was still foggy. Breathe. It will come. His left hand reached out and encountered the sleeping form of his wife. Still, to this day, it pleased him to say it – his wife. Was she at the party? Surely. She never missed a chance to celebrate if she could help it. She could tell him what it was about. When she woke. After coffee. Perhaps many cups, as she was sure to be feeling the effects of the wine.

Maybe he should just try to go back to sleep. His head would appreciate it. Yet sleep eluded him. He sighed. He slowly rolled out of bed, taking care not to disturb Catherine. He walked over to the dresser where a pitcher and bowl stood, poured some water into the bowl and rinsed his face repeatedly. It was when he was drying off that he spied the invitation:

Join us in celebrating 30 years together!

Some group or other celebrating the existence of he and Catherine, and the community Below. Nothing like being plucked from obscurity and then having your life examined six ways from Sunday. Still, the party was nice. And it’s always nice to have people like you. So, all in all, he couldn’t complain.

 Now, where did Catherine keep the aspirin?