My head is beginning to throb. I’m staring at the window, the mile long headache stare. No set pattern to the throb yet, everyone’s chatting. No one is quite loud enough for my head to beat in sync. It’s just a low hum from everyone. The assault of cologne is what’s triggering this one. Working with two boys means that they each wear what seems like a half a bottle of two conflicting scents. They don’t smell nice, it doesn’t smell nice. Every time they shift or readjust in their seats, it sends another wave towards me. They’re talking about something inane. The one just said something mysgnostic. I’d roll my eyes but I’m sure I’d just get dizzy from it.
“Are you okay?” I hear someone ask. One of the boys I’m working with.
Fuck off. I think automatically. He’s the one who triggered it.
“You seem…not there,” he adds.
“Headache,” I mumble.