My craving lasted all of two minutes. As the warm liquid flowed down my throat I knew I had made a mistake. The toxic concoction hit my stomach and it convulsed instantly. My body heaved its contents back up to my throat feeling more sinister than it had on the way down. I made it to the sink just in time to revisit my bad flavour combination on the stainless steel surface, splashing minute droplets up the sides I would have to rinse away later. The sight of my own vomit set off another chain of heaving that retrieved leftover food I did not remember eating.
It was the last time I would let Dave pay his rent in weed.
The kitchen was a blur of light spots on my vision as the convulsions slowed to a stop and I sank to the floor. The cool tiles felt good against my bare legs and I wondered how much better they would feel on my face.
I lay my head to rest gently on the cold hard surface of the tile and momentarily shut my eyes. The smooth surface felt magical against my skin. The hard unyielding surface let my cheek meld to its form its resistance reassuring against my unsteady body. Its strength made me vulnerable, fragile somehow. It felt as though someone could come along and squash me like a bug against its surface and not leave a dent. They could pound my head repeatedly against its unyielding surface until my vision blurred into nothing. Or had that happened already?
JC
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