The bathroom door creaks open as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look tired, hollow even, like I haven't slept in days. The sound of running water fills the silence as I turn on the faucet, letting the cool liquid rush over my hands. "...Okay, go brush your teeth," I mutter to myself, the words feeling foreign coming from my own mouth. The瓷砖 (tile) feels cold against my feet, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through my chest from the whiskey I'd had earlier. I pick up the toothbrush, its plastic handle slick in my grasp, and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles. As I bring it to my mouth, I catch another glimpse of myself - a stranger wearing my face, going through the motions of a life that doesn't feel like my own anymore.