Debbie
The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, hitting the white tiles with a brightness that made my head throb. I sat on the edge of my bed for five minutes, just trying to get the world to stop spinning. I felt heavy. I felt weak. My stomach was doing somersaults, and a thick wave of nausea kept rising in my throat.
This is weird, I thought, gripping the banister as I walked downstairs. I had felt fine yesterday. Tired, sure. Stressed? Absolutely. But this morning, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.
I walked into the kitchen. The smell of frying bacon and buttered toast hit me like a physical punch. Normally, I loved that smell. Today, it made me want to run for the bathroom.
Rain was at the stove, humming a tune and flipping pancakes. He turned around, a huge grin
