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The morning light drifted gently through the kitchen window, spilling over the marble counter and catching dust motes in the air. I still had a pounding headache as I padded down the stairs, each step making the dull ache behind my eyes pulse a little more. My throat felt scratchy and dry, almost like I'd swallowed sandpaper during the night. Maybe I was coming down with something. Just great.
I tried to convince myself it was probably nothing, just tired from the lake or maybe staying up too late reading by candlelight again. A couple of painkillers and a glass of water should do the trick. That's what Mom would've said, at least. So I followed her advice, gulped them down, and hoped for the best before heading toward the warm, sweet smell wafting through the air.
