I woke up in an apartment near the city with bad breath and that’s about it.

“Morning,” she said.

I sat up. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” the other she said, covering herself with a pillow.

“Morning.”

I rubbed my eyes and checked my phone. “Did I sleep talk last night?”

Michelle cooked breakfast, which was cereal and milk. We ate it on the balcony while looking down at the wet everything.

“Tim’s place was completely flooded.”

It was still raining but it was humid. I looked back inside the dark apartment. “I wonder when you guys will get electricity and water back.”

“I heard we won’t see the real damage until Monday.”

Saturday night was like the horror movies. Stairs and no elevators; dark hallways with no lights; an alarm system that wouldn’t turn off; rustling noises in the distance. They spent the whole day pumping water out of the underground parking lot, and every time I’d pass it I’d see a new set of people staring at the scene in awe.

“I reckon meteors are next.”

“Check this.” We huddled around Michelle’s phone, which showed people from Sunshine Coast playing around with sea foam. Apparently, the sea foam was formed from the wildness of the seas. The whole place looked like a giant bubble bath. The sea foam wobbled like jelly with bits and pieces floating into the air. People giggled around it and jumped inside it and took photos. A baby laughed in the background.

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Original image from smh.com.au.