As I skulked around the unlit apartment, right hand clasping the hem of the blanket thrown around my shoulder ready to ward off any stray beam of sunlight, left hand clamped to my throbbing orbital socket covering my face from jawbone to hairline, I thought…
“Maybe the Phantom of the Opera just had migraines.”
Advertisements
Ooohhhhhh, dammit. Sorry. And sorry this completely cracked me up.
Anyone who gets migraines knows already: I’m pretty well recovered by now or there’s no way I’d be tapping away at a laptop, even with the screen dimmed down as far as it goes.