Rushing to Gate C-14 I stopped at a drinking fountain to pop a Fioricet."Poor thing. You had a rough night. Your migraine's still there, isn't it?" It was, but not as bad as it had been at 3:30 this morning, when it was accompanied by todo y vomitos. He asked, "Do you think it was food-triggered?"
I stared at the label on the bottle for a second, thinking back to Friday, when I was trying to write a paper, trying to pack, trying to give dog-related instructions, trying not to think about, trying to not be afraid of the upcoming flights and trying leave the house on time. Doing none of the above, I sat on the cedar chest holding the bottle and feeling my heart beat. "How wrong would it be to take one of these if I don't have a migraine?"
"No," I responded, after pulling my head up from the drinking fountain on the way to Gate C-14, "I think it was poetic justice."
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