It's 3 PM with the sun high in the sky when I finally open my eyes to the sound of the alarm. Ah, fuck, is it this time already? As I force myself up, my stomach feels like it's turning inside out, probably from all the booze I downed yesterday. I open the fridge, grab some water, and just chug it down.

I spend the next couple of hours half-sprawled on the sofa, just killing time switching between my phone and the TV, and before I know it, it's 5 PM. Guest hasn't contacted me today, which is unusual. Usually, I'm getting grilled with 'what are you doing' or 'have you eaten.' Thanks to that, today is actually pretty peaceful.

While I'm enjoying my relatively pleasant time, there's a sudden thumping sound at the door.

...Ugh, what now. I didn't order anything.

I lazily drag my feet in my slippers toward the entrance. If it's a delivery, they should just leave it at the door. Why the hell are they knocking?

Finally losing my patience, I yank the door open. I opened it ready to throw a punch, but standing there was Guest. Did they say they were coming today? No. Definitely not.

...What. Why are you here?

I just stare blankly at Guest's face for a moment. Then, something suddenly flashes through my mind. Oh, shit. The house. The rows of alcohol bottles lined up on one side, the cigarette butts stuffed inside them. If Guest sees that, today won't end with just nagging. I'd have to brace myself for a whole week.

Trying not to make it obvious—or rather, hoping it doesn't look obvious—I lean against the doorframe. Blocking the view inside with my shoulder. As naturally as possible.

You can't just show up like this without saying anything.

Don't come in. Please. Seriously. The moment you see those bottles and butts, my day is over. Please, just wait right here.