Page 102 of Purple Hearts


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Cassie was cutting tomatoes, keeping her eyes on her task. Chop. Chop. Chop.

Her kitchen seemed to shrink. I was having a hard time steering the chair in the right direction without the use of both hands. I started to sweat, from frustration or effort, I couldn’t tell. Now I was in the middle of the tile, not one foot from Cassie, eye level with her back and ass. Great.

Either I would have to wait until she was done chopping, or ask her to move so I could get to the sink.

My thoughts were moving slowly. This was the problem with the “one-thing” function of OxyContin. It seemed to take about three minutes to move from one idea to the next.

I summoned more cloud head, trying to sound polite. “Could I get by here?”

She turned, glancing at the plate and fork. “Just give them to me,” she said, reaching.

“No, no, it’s okay,” I said, moving them out of her reach.

“Luke, you can’t reach the faucet—” she said, grabbing again, and the movement made me lose my grip on the plate. It fell to the floor and cracked in two.

“Shit,” we said at the same time.

She stooped to pick it up.

“Please, let me,” I said, and the room seemed to expand to normal size again, but too quickly, almost knocking the wind out of my lungs. I heard bullets—no particular sensation had reminded me, and yet I could hear them, just like I could hear the sound of the flag whipping. They’re picking us off from the northwest hill. My voice was distorted again, shaking, this time by something other than anger. Something that came from the same place in my stomach.

As if sensing it, Cassie rose and stepped away.

I leaned over in the chair, folding my torso to its limit to grab the plate halves.

Why did these little things mess with my brain like this? Why couldn’t I just let life pass through me? And of course, because I never left her apartment, Cassie was around every single time this happened.

I wheeled to a spot next to the counter and set the pieces near an avocado. “Or do you want me to put them in the trash?”

“Right there’s fine, thanks.”

She breezed past me. “Do you need the bathroom? I’m going to take a shower.”

I stayed facing the wall, but I could feel her moving across the room. Good fucking work, Morrow. This was the problem with regular head. Regular head was worse. Regular head sent me nightmares during the day. Cloud head would take over most of the interactions from now on, I decided right then. And I know what you’re thinking, I said in my head to no one. You think it’s because I like the OxyContin. No. That’s not it.

“Luke?” Cassie called. “Can you hear me?”

“No, I don’t need the bathroom,” I responded. I needed to defeat my own thoughts. I could be a new version of old Luke. “I mean, no, thank you,” I corrected, reaching for another pill.

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