Fog

My mind is scrambled eggs trying to piece together what my intentions were when I opened the mirror in the bathroom. Mouthwash? Nope. Food? Um no. Drugs for my headache? Likely but unsure. I continue staring blankly ahead when my eyes finally rest on the floss. Ding ding ding! I'm proud of myself for figuring out the puzzle. Mission accomplished. With floss in hand I trudge to my room, stumbling over toys, clothes, stray apples left over from a day of canning, and other various objects until I reach my childhood bed. With what little is left of my strength, I hoist myself up into the middle section of the what used to be a three bedded bunk bed. With the floss pick halfway to my mouth, my thoughts start to drift farther and farther from cleaning out the food in my teeth and before I realize what's happening, my thoughts have turned to dreams. Goodnight.

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