Some mornings seem easier than others: the coffee makes it from grinder to maker without speckling the counter; the anxious cat gets fed without being tripped over. There's no stumbling on this morning. For once, remember the front windows are open before waltzing through in only underwear; press play on the stereo and a favorite album is already cued up. Moving to the bathroom, the rush of what happened the night before comes in like the rain. Hands still holding the edge of the sink, the body goes down, down, down. There's only floor left.