I rode the bus home with an excruciating headache. It ruthlessly crept its way across my skull, painfully slithering its way through every narrow curve of my brain.
While at work, sharp claws had dug deep below the norm, and I was forced to excuse myself. I asked to go home.
My eyes were watering, bloodshot, while standing in the back isle of the bus, holding on to the overhead metal bar they offer their standing passengers.
"Ah, my stop is coming up," reaching for the cord to stop.