Sharp pain behind my right eye. Throbbing brain. A vortex of omnipresent pain. A doorbell chimed vaguely in the background. A customer appeared.
That trifecta, people thought, was the worst possible hand, he said. But he identified privilege in the knowledge that he could chart his own path, could see a future for himself.
Those things, yes. But it’s the joy, too, I said. It radiated out, a glow-up for everything around him.
When he left, my headache was gone.