I washed my face that night.  I took out my contacts, brushed my teeth and washed my face before I crawled into bed.

But the night still left its mark on me.

Sometimes things go right.  They go so incredibly right that you float through the moments, minutes, hours and suddenly find that you’re out of time.  But sometimes they don’t.  It’s not that anything has gone wrong, it’s that things are slightly off.  I’m slightly off.  As though everything has shifted 1 inch to the left and you haven’t noticed.  Everything is there.  All the pieces are in place and in play.  Your heart is in it but you’re too busy navigating the shift to give yourself over.  It leaves your senses with a film you can’t shake off.

So the memories.  The smiles.  The sighs.  The feelings are all there, but so is that film, clinging like the lip stain that leaves my lips crimson red, even as the sun falls through my window in the morning.