The credits crept on like sands through the hourglass and she rolled out of bed — the blood flowed fast north and she saw black. Slowly, it crept back circularly from the center outward. The darkness evaporated and in its place a tremor pulsed. Tiny rippling waves of discomfort began — from the best she could tell — in the center of her brain.

Thirsty so thirsty…

The pulsation moved mild throb as she ambled to the kitchen. Green nausea flooded her sinuses. A craving tingled daintily amongst the sickness. Her thin fingers fumbled for the kettle.

Mint tea.

Hot water cascaded from the immaculate silver faucet. She stared at her sterling reflection in the looping proboscis as the pain in her mind escalated. Hurriedly, she sloshed the half full kettle onto the back burner. There was a slow knock at the door.

She froze — her hand hung impervious amongst the billowing steam. The pounding pain threatened to crush her mind’s eye: the shallow divide bounced between her eyes. Cross-eyed and stiff-legged she moved toward the front door.

As her hand clasped the doorknob, she realized, “I’m out of tea.”

The door swung open lazily with a creak. She recognized his face instantly, although his pubescent moustache had grown long and greasy. The horse hide face clung tightly to his sparse frame; the chasmatic creases had taken on a more severe quality — the exhausted epidermis of a three lifetime smoker without parole. Young steel blue eyes stared through the rumpled fissures.

Cold mint stirred her eyes and seeped quickly into her veins, loraxing through her jittery body. A shiver straddled her lungs and leafy breaths exhaled autonomic.

She awoke in a puddle of sweat…naked, refreshed.