My turn at fainting, I’d gotten an mRNA shot. I was a bit on the blink. I stood up too fast and turned woozy. Heading for the sofa, dizzier, I reached for the bookshelf and tried hard as I could to hold on, but the swirling in my brain, the swimminess—oooh—

I woke to the sound of puzzle pieces sliding in their boxes. Near me on the floor were toppled books. The stinkbug mug lay on its side, spilled. The bookshelf was leaning drunkenly.

I crawled to the door—Paulson was out in the shop. I need you! I yelled. He yelled back, “I’m gluing!” I crawled back to the living room, number two on the priority list, and meekly waited.

The shelf is now bolted to the wall. It would take an earthquake, the wall’s collapse, for the shelf and the stud to part ways. Or somebody bombing us. Also I know now to slide to the floor right away should the vertigo again hit. Not cling to the nearest thing for dear life, stupidly, and bring the world crashing down.

 


 

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