He can tell immediately that I am in trouble; injured. Traumatized.
He is kind. Places his arm about me.
There is no concept of time.
He helps me.
I clean myself up.
After a while he opens a briefcase that he placed inside the door when he entered. He finds what he's looking for and extends his hand offering me a cube of sugar.
I am exhausted and scared.
He says, "This will help you to forget everything."
I ask, "What is it?"
He says, "Trust me, it will help."
He smiles softly and says, "Take it. You have two hours before you'll feel the wave. You will be so grateful to me."
The sweetness dissolves into my swollen, burning tongue.
April Art Journal Pages
18 hours ago