spectro
dayman
Fliss stretched out her legs as the morning sun beamed down on her face. She had forgotten to shut the curtains before she went to bed. She got up, shielding her face from the light and feeling the throbbing her nose as she stood up. "Ah!" She touched the bandage on her face. She blinked away the pain and strode over to her wardrobe. She pulled out a pale blue shirt and a pair of white jeans. She shrugged the shirt on along with the pants and left her hair in a bun. She walked downstairs and saw Michael on the couch. His mouth was wide open and he looked as if he was asleep. "Um, excuse me?" She poked his arm. His skin looked pale. Was he dead? He wasn't moving. His breath smelt of alcohol, perhaps he was passed out? Fliss didn't know what to do. She stood there for a moment, contemplating slapping him. And she did. A big smacker upside the head. His head flopped to the side, lifelessly. She shivered and shouted upstairs. "Little help here?" She doubted anyone would here. "I think this guy is dead." She called.