Morning has broken

[robinbloke]

The water dripped slowly from the half-curled leaf bowed under the weight of the new-morning dew onto the face of the man lying underneath it.
A faint grunt and a half-conscious wave of his hand were his only response.
Yeelea pouted, humans were so lazy; forever asleep during the best parts of the day, mornings, midnight's, the last shreds of sunlight vanishing over the horizon.
Her wings briefly blurred in a shimmer of gossamer light as the first few shards of sunlight began to creep through the half-canopy of trees above them both, doubtless he'd never remember the night before - they never did. They always seemed to be more willing to forget about things than remember.
The man rolled over with a groan and a wince, his face contorting into a pained expression that anyone who had ever had a really wild night of drinking would recognise as the pain of a hangover from hell itself.
Yeelea sighed as her wings flickered once more, carrying her gracefully up and away, he was no fun anymore, humans were always only brief entertainment - no stamina. So with a tinkling swirl of jewelled faerie dust that rained lightly down over the man below she flew away into the forest and away from the site of the party the night before.

John groaned and sat up rubbing his head, his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with wood, his head felt like it had been split open with an axe. Faintly, almost at the back of his mind through his thumping headache he half caught the fading sound of tinkling music. He shook his head to clear the sound away. That was the last time he'd ever drink cider.