What three days sick on the couch looks like.
The hat, I mean. Also the unshaved man-face, I guess. Mine isn't as noticeable.
I dragged myself to work today, throwing down enough orange cold pills to create a comfortable buffer of white noise around myself as I drifted from the circ desk to my office with dilated eyes, watching people's mouths move to form words I couldn't decode. Typed an ill-advised email, deleted it, typed another, deleted it also, wrote a letter of recommendation that I keenly hope did not list "fish burper" or something terrible under their list of duties. Sat with my chin in my hand, looking at the screen with one eye squinched shut and then the other, tapping through my order lists. Pored over the weekly deposit like I was counting money for Baby Ruth bars.
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