It was just you and me, and Mr. H with the pills. "This one's for metabolism," he said.You made a noise like a happy baby and put it in your mouth.
I wanted Mr. H to leave but I had a headache. "Do you have anything for headache?" I asked.
Mr. H shrugged and dug in his pockets for show. I hated him then but I hated him always.
"You could mix this one for memory with this one for stamina," he said. "That might do it."
You were slumped in your chair. "My metabolism hurts," you said. Your face was made of teeth. A greenish foam appeared at your hairline. Mr. H gave the appearance of concern. I started thinking about how we'd better get honest with ourselves. I pictured the history of my emotions like a carnival side show. I was the fat man and I wanted to keep eating forever.