(Sometimes fiction writing has some crazy logic: it is hot, I had a headache when I woke up, I have been watching a lot of dramas – ergo, this story.)
I wake to the sound of a cellphone ringing. It feels like a foghorn going off inside my head – if I could tell anybody, please, for the love of God, pick that up, I would. But I can’t even open my eyes – I feel so tired – so I just ride it out, the waves of sound, until finally, mercifully, it stops.
It is so hot in here – I feel like I’m burning up. And I’m so thirsty. I reach for the glass on the table I keep on the side of the bed.
But I can’t.
My eyes fly open.