Dog Days

I'm in the wrong bed. I guess that means I'm on tour. I could have sworn tour ended a week ago, but I'm too tired to figure that out right now. I clutch my vaguely familiar hotel pillow closer and squeeze my eyes against the morning light. My arms feel small. My whole body seems wrong, like the gap from a missing tooth. My alarm sounds and I jab at my iPhone. Eight in the morning, the little screen tells me. What happened to my phone? Why am I using my old one? How did I even get here?