The Headache

This morning, as Mrs. Wigglebottom and I were walking around the neighborhood, we heard this sound, like a dog squealing in terror as its muzzle is crushed under the weight of some mad man’s boot.

In that moment, you have to decide, will I investigate what is clearly a horrid scene or will I keep walking?

Before we had to make up our minds, I figured out that the sound we were hearing was the train, slowly scraping its wheels against the track, not quite able to gain traction as slick metal slid past slick metal.

It was a relief, let me tell you.  But that unsettled feeling, of barely escaping witnessing something terrible, has stuck with me all day.  And now, a headache has sliced up through my head and across my eyeball.  It hurts to look at things.  It hurts to shut my eye.

I have only two Tylenol left.

I hope it’s enough 

—–