Everything blurred into deffinite shape. I woke up to a tall man finishing a stich inside my mouth. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said. “Shoudln’t be awake yet.” Of all possible things to hear when awakening from oral surgery, “shouldn’t be awak yet” is one of the more unpleasent.
That’s not to say that anything went wrong. In fact I feel great. I took a narcotic, slept for several hours and then watched the news with my mom. Now I’m sitting at an antique of a computer, my neice staring over my shoulder and reading every word I type. “You just tell people everything you do?”