Death smelled like coffee. It had the chalky feeling of home. I opened my eyes into white light, thinking this wouldn't be too bad after all, what had I been afraid of, that this was nice.
But then, my head hurt. A lot. Like a pinch from the inside, a vise on the outside, and wave after wave of nausea. My teeth hurt at the gums, and the soft, powdery feeling turned into a spreading, scalding pain.
"Careful, careful," someone said. "Easy now. You've had a fall."
I'd have opened my eyes to make out the speaker, but I couldn't -- for a second, anyway. Then I knew.
Zan hadn't killed me.
Her body blocked out the light and brought the coffee smell closer to me. "Come on," Zan said. "Coffee and naproxen." She waved the steam at me. &...
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