Milk
I am very, very, very grateful that Atlanta is deaf, therefore unable to hear me screaming and weeping like a babe seeking attention. She remains asleep in her bed, with only a patch of her hair and temple visible amidst the pillows and blankets.
Unwilling to chance another nightmare, I abandon my makeshift nest on the floor and leave the chamber for the kitchen. – In previous occurrences, I could soothe myself with a snack or a small drink. Hopefully, this time will be the same. I could do with a cup of iced chocolate, if there is nothing heavier available.
Unfortunately, as I find while rummaging in the pantry and kitchen cupboards, apparently Atlanta and I have spent most of the ingredients for the chocolate drink in our experiments before we went to bed. The only ingredient still available in a decent quantity is half a container of “plain fresh milk.”
`Well, this will have to do.`
I seat myself at the kitchen counter, pour all the milk into a large cup, then begin to sip at it.
I wish I did not.
With my mind still half-way caught in the lingering nightmare, the milk tastes like… something I knew.