A Snack Break With Diana

Havermouth, Present Time

“I think I’m dying,” Rhett announced blowing out his breath. “How is it possible that one small espresso causes this much woe?” He felt sweat break out on his forehead and braced a hand against the stall walls as his body arched into another expelling of what it was convinced to be poison.

“Well, you did eat rather heavily for breakfast,” Talen reminded him gently. He had braided Rhett’s hair back from his face, handed him a handful of wet paper towels, and now filled the stall doorway with his shoulders as he watched as Rhett flushed away the coffee-scented bloody evidence of his experiment.

“Yeah.” The toilet bowl had looked like a murder scene, something that Rhett found quite entertaining now that the worst of his vomiting was over. He hoped. He closed the lid and sat down on it, feeling weak in the aftermath.

Talen walked over to wet more paper towel in the sink, bringing it back, and tilted Rhett’s head back with his fingers before gently wiping the towe