Figure Eights

Her hip was acting up, though rain wouldn’t fall for another three months at least. The ache, an old enemy, crawled its way up her left leg, lodged itself firmly around the bone, and stayed there.

Gabi quietly scrabbled through Tylenol bottles, old syringes, and a nebulizer mask before locating the old yellow box she hoped was still full.

There were a few pills left. She popped two out of their blisters and swallowed them in quick succession. It was quiet, and she was reluctant to go back to bed until the pain surrendered. She walked out of the kitchen, noting the time glowing green on the microwave clock. 03:15. Hmm, there went her night. Was her limp more pronounced than usual?

Like a bee, Gabi’s phone gave three angry buzzes and died as she was trying to see if those unicorn pajamas Sarah wanted had come back in a size six. The pain made it difficult to pull herself out of the low settee to charge it, so she left it on the arm and hoped that with no alarm, Michel would wake her up in time to get the girls ready.