YESTERDAY'S MIGRAINE

The figure places a tray down onto a desk near the door and puts its hands up.

You avert your eyes towards the tray to avoid looking at It.

The tray holds...

Breakfast?

And a mug that contains what seems to be tea.

What the fuck.

"DO NOT BE AFRAID," it says, voice deep and strangely smooth.

What. The Fuck.

Its voice is a bit too loud, and it makes your head pound more than it already is.

"Could you... quiet down a bit? Please?" you rasp out, voice dry and hoarse.

Although its facial expression cannot change, it looks slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry. How do you feel?"