Gingerbread Latte

Chapter 13 - Scott something

"In that moment,
where sorrow and joy both sing,
He tasted like heartache, an eternal suffering."

*************

One month later...

Max's POV

It was a normal day. Based on your definition of normal, of course.

It started like any other day; the morning unfolded like a recurring script from the past month. I roused from my slumber at the crack of dawn, throwing punches at the bags in a desperate attempt to revive my lost vigor. With each round of my morning workout, I pushed my faltering body to the brink, determined to reclaim my lost stamina.

When my training was done, I took a shower, washing away the remnants of sweat and weariness, and I moved forward with my day, resolute in my efforts. I went to my classes, the time blending seamlessly into the mundane backdrop of my day. When the clock's steady hands struck five in the afternoon, I was back in the coffee shop, working with Valerie on her upcoming final project.

It was all okay and normal. Till it wasn't anymore.

I excused myself to the restroom midway through our tutoring session; The room had seemed to blur and sway, like a ship caught in a tempestuous sea so I sought refuge from a world suddenly too chaotic to bear.

I found myself within the dimly lit confines of the coffee shop's restroom, my reflection in the mirror similar to a haunting apparition. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast an eerie pallor upon my somewhat pale face.

I stood there, my senses swirling in disarray, and I could feel that something was wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. Desperation surged within me, and I grasped at the edges of the sink as if this cold, unfeeling porcelain could anchor me to reality. My fingers trembled as they sought to regain mastery over my quivering form, a desperate plea for control amidst the chaos.

My heartbeat echoed loudly in my ears, a thunderous drumbeat of my elevating pressure. It felt like a storm of electric energy coursed through my veins, urging the blood to rush to my head.

I gazed upon my reflection again, blinking through the haze, and there, on the pallid structure of my face, I watched as crimson droplets began to fall from my nose, each a poignant testament to my pain and staining the pristine porcelain below.

Amidst my blurred and disoriented thoughts, I fumbled for the faucet handle, desperately seeking the solace of water to wash and rub away the blood that stained underneath my nose. I clutched at the stream of water, splashing my face whole as if I could somehow force my body back into alignment.

This was just another chapter in a recurring narrative, an episode that had become bizarrely familiar. It was, in its own twisted way, my new normal. I was aware that one of the side effects of my meds was the relentless surge of high blood pressure, an unwelcome companion in my daily life. The persistent headaches, the perpetual dizziness that clung to me like an unshakable shadow, and the recurring nosebleeds, they had all become part of the routine.

Feeling slightly better and composed,  I dried my hands and face with a paper towel, before I existed and made my way back to our table. I settled into the chair beside Valerie, glancing at her laptop screen to check what progress she had made during my brief absence, all the while maintaining a façade of normalcy as if nothing had transpired.

I started to speak, advising her as I pointed at the screen, "You should consider adding the 'Materials and Methods' section right here—" My sentence was abruptly cut short as Valerie interjected, her words luring my attention away.