Daggers. Hundreds of them. They sit poised just between the jagged shards of glass and just behind the pools of fiery gasoline that line my vocal cords. My body tenses to absorb the explosion of torture that comes with every swallow.
Sleep is not an option.
Is this what strep throat feels like?
I'll find out this afternoon.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
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