She came to slowly, through a fog, a burgeoning hangover the first thing she noticed.
Jenna was no stranger to waking up with a hangover. The pounding head, the dry mouth. She reached out for her phone, and that’s when she felt the cold rough surface of office carpeting. Her eyes shot open. Again, for not the first time in her life, she had no idea where she had woken up. But this time she was not in an unfamiliar bed laying next to someone she didn’t know. She was laying alone on a hard floor. She was underneath a desk.
She felt around her, groping in the cold morning light which was just beginning to shine through the floor to ceiling windows. She peeked out from under the desk. It was her own desk, she realized. The open plan office in which she worked every day was empty and silent around her, save for the noise of some fans and computer equipment. It was Saturday morning.