She was filled with intense relief, she went to the mirrored
cabinet in the bathroom and left, one by one her medication as if they were
emotions forbidden her, her prescription filled by a dark-haired Saturday girl.
First the pain-killers, two bottles of them, her epilepsy
pills. Then the tooth paste she liked: mint Colgate. She had fallen outside the
Spar and a nice schoolgirl helped her up while her boy ignorantly watched still
sitting on the wall as he was worried someone would take his perch.
The girl sat beside her on the newly painted, pristine,
bench and pulled a can of unicorn tears flavoured Irn Bru for the woman.
She thought she recognized someone driving by in a Toyota,
but it wasn’t him and a black mist fell over her, piercing her heart as if she
had been tattooed by dirty needles made ugly with shadows stencilled throughout
her heart.
The night before she had stayed up watching the bright,
almost too bright for her eyes, full moon passing the night from horizon to
horizon and wept as there was no magic, perhaps they never had been.
Slowly she placed her prescription:
Olanzapine, lithium, lamotrigine, Seroxat, zopiclone,
on the middle shelf in alphabetical order, closed the
mirrored door and saw herself for the first time that day. She seemed new in
the well cleaned mirror making her shine and didn’t need to take her pills
today.
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