Ezra no longer felt the kiss of the wilderness, or the warm feeling of furry flesh pressed against him. Instead he felt hard floorboards again his own body. He moaned, his head spinning. He recalled a party, or was it two parties? Ezra rubbed his aching shoulder and paused. He was naked. Not only that, he realised, he was messy. Covered in dirt and other filth. He lifted his arm up and shift it. It, noticing his pit hair was a little thicker than he remembered.
He moaned again, feeling the hangover of a lifetime. He rose up onto his feet, his legs buckling slightly.
“What did I do last night,” he said.
He opened his wardrobe and again stoped. There was a slight itch, he didn’t really need clothes right? Ezra stopped, shacking his head.
“What am I thinking?”
He pulled out a pair of underwear and pulled it on. It was a little tighter than he remembered, but it was probably nothing.
Ezra made his breakfast, a strangely large meal of porridge, four eggs and bacon. It was enough, although he didn’t feel full, strongly enough. His bare chest itched slightly, and it felt just slightly more sturdy. He looked down, and it didn’t seemed to different, if a little more formed. He cleaned the dishes and decided, with a weird filling of bitter sweetness, to have a shower. He washed, his body tingling with the feeling of water waving down his body. In the mirror Ezra noticed, underneath his wet curls were to bruises on each side of his forehead. He got out of the shower and let hisself air dry. Feeling the cold air against his body felt right. He sighed and eventually lamented to getting dressed, he threw in a lose fitting hoodie and tracksuit pants. It felt okay, and Ezra continued with his quiet day without question. All these symptoms had to be a result form that long night of partying. Time went by, we walked barefoot down the street and got lunch, went home and would go on to order pizza that evening. As he finished his meal, there was a knock at the door...