Once, after reading an article in a magazine, she suggested Sunil consider switching to herbal remedies to treat his condition. She prattled on about the benefits of St. John’s Wort and valerian, of fish oil and folic acid. Non-medicinal treatments, too, such as dark chocolate and yoga, nature walks and volunteering. Now, she clutches inside to think of his wordless expression, his eyes more sad than angry, the way one might look at a sheltered child. He knew she didn’t know any better than to say stupid things.

Now she knows, though. Understands how far someone might go to make it stop. She feels that very need growing inside her every time she falls at the mercy of Anchor or Blaze or Gloom. After each assault, it is getting harder to pull herself back up. Harder to ignore their harsh reasoning.

While at the pharmacy the other day purchasing the herbals, as she turned down an aisle on the way to the cash registers, she found herself among a library of sleeping pills. She stood in front of them, dumb, expecting to feel repulsed, to want to sack the shelves. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached for a box. Was this the brand Sunil chose? Or did he mix a few? What did it feel like to glide into forever sleep? Oh, to glide to sleep. To rest, unassailed by nightmares.

Sounds peaceful, said Gloom. Doesn’t it?

She rushed from the aisle so quickly, she nearly forgot to pay for the St. John’s Wort and valerian on her way to the exit.

Now, as she bounces her leg, she tells herself everything is going to be fine. She can trust Chi. She is her best and oldest friend, for goodness sake. She can be honest with her. She can tell her what’s happened. All the nervousness she is feeling now will be worth it. When she reaches out to Chi this time, her friend will reach back, hold her tightly, and keep her from sliding any farther.

No matter how she tries to convince herself with studious repetition, her body never lies. Her stomach hoofs in unison with her brisk heartbeat. The warning beacon in her gut blares. Danger is imminent. She is vectoring right into it. No matter what lies her mind recites, her body always tells the truth.

Chi rejoins her at the table, setting down her coffee and an almond croissant. “So, tell me all about toi. What’s new?”

“There isn’t much to tell,”

“Don’t give me that,” Chi says, rolling her eyes, as she picks an almond slice free from her croissant. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a good gab session. How’s work?”

“I’m still on leave.”