The cold shudder

The most disgusting thing. I sat down, with a large colourful mug of hot chocolate. I’d put honey and sugar in, to make it sweeter than usual. I was cold. Cold and tired. I though that the sugar might keep me awake, while the milk might give me a stomach ache. My feet were freezing. Perhaps she shirtless day in the garden had caught up with me. Or maybe it was something to do with the painfully large serve of kale I’d eaten. It smelled of marijuana somewhat, as I chopped it up and threw it into the pot with oil and onion earlier. I threw a blanket over my knees, and forced myself to relax. The pain in my chest had moved to my head, a gentle throbbing. A feeling of anticipation, cold feet and a wonderful book to read, if only I had the drive. I sat back, read a page and then went to sip the ho’-cho’. To my surprise, dismay and momentary disgust I wiped the skin off the top of the steaming milky beverage. A dark layer of protein, phlegm like and unsweet lolled and then stuck to my chin. The grossness of it all struck me in such a way – I worried that my only respite would be bed. I resolved to warm my hands and never become a cannibal. Sickened and slightly unsure if I’d be ok in the short term.


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