Dabara Tumbler - 1

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It should not have been more than ten in the morning when my phone started chiming, quaking against the hard clapboard nightstand next to my bed. I rubbed my face in exasperation. My head was weighing the earths even at the unadorned consciousness I had gained at the slightest perusal of my phone's ringing. I could sense my brain ferociously pounding inside my skull in sickening gripes, already coupling with the hefty semblance. I have been there before –this brash headache and shaky sensation fumbling in me; maybe they'll break the spirits, when I have had a cup of coffee,