She is talking about her day, interacting with students for the first time, telling me of the high lights of her morning. All I can think about is the pills in my wallet and if I had time to sneak them and if I didn’t, what would my co-op say. I lean forehead and rest my head on her shoulder. She stops talking, stops eating.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I roll my forehead on her shoulder, “I’m tired and have a headache.” The frame of my glasses digs into my forehead, I close my eyes. Taking a small break for a moment.
I stand up and take a deep breath. The pain fades. I’ll feel better after eat. I promise myself.
More Than a Headache 