I swallowed the pill with a glass of water, the taste bitter on my tongue.
For a while, I just sat there, waiting.
I half expected my skin to prickle, or my stomach to turn, or for some strange force to stir awake inside me.
But minutes passed, and nothing happened.
No pain, no dizziness, not even a flicker of warmth beneath my skin.
I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. At least it wasn't poison. If it had been, surely I'd already be doubled over on the floor.
That thought eased me, yet another rose up right after.
Why didn't I feel anything at all?
The man had been vague, yes, but not without intent. He had implied it could help me.
I looked down at my hands, turning them over as though I might see a difference. I didn't know what to expect. But they were the same as always. Pale. Thin. Helpless.
What good was a pill that changed nothing?
I carried my book to the window seat, opened it across my lap, and tried to read.
