The dizzy spell lingered, like bad food past midnight.
She wanted to rest, to put her head down and sleep for hours on end. But single mothers can't afford that kind of luxury. The gods don't allow it.
So she pushed herself on, one slow step at a time. To stop her fingers from numbing up, she cranked the heat. The bill wouldn't be due for another two weeks. To keep her energy level up, she drank tea. Cup after cup of it, until she lived in the washroom. To maintain her sanity, she mediated. But her thoughts wouldn't focus, they drifted to the edges where romance reigns king.
The kids played, fighting with swords one minute and action figures the next. Extras arrived, increasing the fun level but adding to the responsibility factor. She kept them in snacks and videos, watching the clock and praying for bedtime to race closer.
The phone rang. She hoped against hope that the person on the other end would rescue her. Drawn into the depths of the drama triangle, she longed for release from her dizzy prison.
Would she like her carpets cleaned? The price had never been lower.
She didn't have any carpets.
The room spun and she closed her eyes to the turmoil once more. She would find inner calm, even if she had to wait until midnight, or later. One slow breath at a time.