Shiloh snaked her hand out from her blanket cocoon to slap the blaring alarm into silence. It was cold out there. She peeled one eye open from to peer out from beneath a pillow that had somehow worked its way onto her head. Through a veil of thin straggly hair, she could make out the time.
Too early o’clock.
She glared at the sunshine for being entirely too cheery for the way she felt right now. Shiloh pushed herself up into a sitting position groaning as she ran her hand through a serious case of bed head hair. Her everything hurt, muscles, joints, and her head and her stomach felt like she’d eaten a raw pork chop that had been left on the counter for three days.
Shiloh sat on the side of the bed huddled in her blankets debating about whether or not it was worth it to get out of bed. When she did decide to get up, she took her favorite blanket with her. Beyond closing the window and getting a shower her plans for the day were fluid. What happened next depended largely on if the shower made her feel any better.
Twenty minutes under the hot spray helped as far as her soreness went but did nothing to settle her stomach. Shiloh wasn’t sure there was anything on the planet that would, but anything was worth a shot right? Her footsteps were heavy and slow as she plodded down the stairs in her bathrobe with her hair in a towel. The refrigerator held magical pink stuff for stomach aches; not bothering with a spoon she upended the bottle like a shot glass. Since toast was about the only thing she thought she could handle, two slices of bread were thrown into the toaster to be buttered and smeared with grape jelly.