Member-only story
Migraine Trips
…Like you can see through the Matrix of your life.
You wake up and go downstairs, pausing mid-way down.
The lines of each individual stair seem to waver for a moment.
The stairs themselves seem vaguely Burtonesque — all slanted lines and moving pieces.
Your head hurts and you close your eyes.
You take a deep breath, gripping the bannister tightly, and the stairs snap back to taut and firm.
You step a careful step, holding tightly, holding tightly, and continue on your journey despite the sick nausea in your throat and the hot poker-pain behind your eyes.
Downstairs now, and the sunlight is too bright but that’s OK. It’s summer, right?
It’s fine.
You squint tired eyes and keep moving.
Breakfast bowl on counter. Cereal box in hand.
Ignore the sun-spots blotting out the brand name — the colour of the box means you grabbed the right one, so you pour.
Back to the living room, pause when the kitchen floor turns tiles to earthquaked stepping-stones, patterns providing seismic activity.
