“Did you call your prescription in?” she asked without looking up from her screen.
“No.” I had forgotten all about the prescription sitting in my MyChart.
I pulled out my phone and slid it across the counter. “It’s in there.”
She nodded and scanned the prescription barcode. “Your total is $38.”
I dropped two twenty-dollar bills down on the counter. It was almost my last, but it was money well spent.
The woman scooped them up and slid my change back a moment later. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll call your name on the intercom when your prescription is ready.”
“Aight. Thank you.”
A few minutes felt like forever.
The lights above the pharmacy counter were doing the most. I pushed off the counter before my mouth could get me in trouble with somebody who hadn’t done anything to me.
I grabbed a basket and headed down the first aisle I saw. The store was small, so there wasn’t much to choose from. The only things available were chips, lunch meat, processed cheese, bread, canned meats, candy, and snack cakes. None of it required real cooking, which worked for me. I wasn’t in the mood to cook anyway.
I tossed enough junk in my basket to hold me over for a few days.
My stomach had been quiet, but now that I was looking at food, it started acting up.
On the next aisle, I grabbed disinfectant spray, a pack of rags, and a couple of things strong enough to kill whatever had been living in those walls rent-free. Somebody had to handle it, and it wasn’t going to be the landlord.
By the time I walked back toward the front, my head had gone from bad to worse. The whole store tilted sideways every time I moved too fast, and the fluorescent lights didn’t help.
“Konika?” the pharmacist called my name.
I spun around and made my way back to the pharmacy counter, red knuckling the basket handle the whole way.
“I’m here.”
The pharmacy tech handed over the bag. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you. Can I pay for this other stuff here, or do I need to go to the cashier at the front of the store?”
“You don’t have much, so you can pay here,” she replied, and I didn’t waste time throwing my things on the counter.
She rang me up, and I threw my money down, barely paying attention to the total.
“Thank you,” I said as I snatched up my receipt.
Before I stepped away, I had the pharmacy bag open, the cap twisted off, and two pills in my palm. I tossed them back dry, then chased them with the bottled water I’d just bought.
Outside, the heat hit differently than it had on the way in. I stopped just past the sliding doors, bags hanging off both wrists, and waited for my vision to catch up with the rest of me. The sun was doing too much.
I got my keys out before I even cleared the curb, and by the time I slid behind the wheel, the pounding in my head had dropped from a scream to an irritating throb. The migraine was still there, just not enough to take me out completely.
I started the car and pulled out of the lot, turning in the direction I thought would take me back to my apartment. A few blocks in, I missed a turn. I knew I did. I just didn’t care enough to correct it. My focus stayed locked on the road ahead, one hand gripping the wheel while the other pressed against my temple, trying to keep the pressure from building back up.
The streets twisted and turned, and I blew through stop sign after stop sign, and corner after corner. Nothing looked familiar, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to question it.
I just needed to get home.
At some point, the ache started to ease. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. I let out a slow breath and dropped my hand from my temple, blinking a few times to clear my vision. When it finally did, I realized I was lost.
A cold wave of anxiety washed over me as I scanned my surroundings, each unfamiliar street and shadowed corner spiking my heart rate.
