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Mar. 27th, 2016 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunbaked_bakerRae had tried to sleep. She really had. Con had left before nine, and she had gone directly to bed after, knowing she would have to get up at three, assuming SOF would be there to pick her up around four for... strategizing, or whatever, for their five o'clock meeting. At best she would get six hours of sleep, which was generally the bare minimum for her to be mostly functional.
But as she suspected - like a self-fulfilling prophecy - her night was full of restless tossing and turning, by turns too hot or too cold, anxiety twisting her stomach and her over-active imagination giving her no opportunity for rest. Everything hinged on this meeting. It could make her life infinitely easier, if she could just survive it (the way she felt, she might just keel over and give up at the first opportunity) and if nothing went wrong (and her imagination could supply an infinite number of ways it could go wrong, in gruesome detail). If the meeting went wrong, it could end her life as she knew it. It could ruin everything she and Con were working for. Those well-meaning SOF folks might very well doom the world they were working to save.
Around two in the morning, Rae had stumbled hurriedly to the bathroom to be sick into the toilet. Not that much came up. She hadn't had any appetite for supper. She stayed in the bathroom until she could be sure that she wouldn't start retching again when she stood up, then staggered her shaky way towards her kitchen for a glass of water to get the taste out of her mouth. It was only an hour before she had to get up anyway. She might as well give up on sleep.
But as she suspected - like a self-fulfilling prophecy - her night was full of restless tossing and turning, by turns too hot or too cold, anxiety twisting her stomach and her over-active imagination giving her no opportunity for rest. Everything hinged on this meeting. It could make her life infinitely easier, if she could just survive it (the way she felt, she might just keel over and give up at the first opportunity) and if nothing went wrong (and her imagination could supply an infinite number of ways it could go wrong, in gruesome detail). If the meeting went wrong, it could end her life as she knew it. It could ruin everything she and Con were working for. Those well-meaning SOF folks might very well doom the world they were working to save.
Around two in the morning, Rae had stumbled hurriedly to the bathroom to be sick into the toilet. Not that much came up. She hadn't had any appetite for supper. She stayed in the bathroom until she could be sure that she wouldn't start retching again when she stood up, then staggered her shaky way towards her kitchen for a glass of water to get the taste out of her mouth. It was only an hour before she had to get up anyway. She might as well give up on sleep.
