The sun will be up in three hours. Maybe by then, the cactus will have retreated. For now, there is only the glow of the screen, the taste of medicine, and the long, slow wait for the light.
There is a fine line between delirium and genius, and I am tap-dancing right on it.
Finding a "cool spot" on the pillow that lasts for more than thirty seconds.
Eventually, the birds will start chirping. The sky will turn that bruised shade of purple-grey that signals the dawn. The fever might break, or it might just retreat for a few hours to catch its breath.
