Finally, it is necessary to take the medication.
First, nothing. Then, walking somewhere between Alex’s office and mine – 20 feet – the vision doubles and blurs, the arms seeming to stretch to the floor with the weight of an anvil in each hand.
If I don’t go to the Health Room, April will send a police escort. So I go. I draw the hospital curtain and make a cocoon.
The crinkly paper under my ear, the softest blanket. I wouldn’t have thought the softest blanket would be in the Health Room at my workplace.
Something explodes in my head. I listen to the noise of the room. I do not know where the noise comes from. It sounds … maybe like a plane. A feeling of suspension. And I am going to sleep on the floor of an aluminum boat.