Shake, shake, spill. The smooth white circles tumble out into the palm of my quivering hand. My mind is racing around the train tracks, faster than light. Toss, swallow.
Shake, shake, spill. Toss, swallow. Shake, shake, spill. Toss, swallow. Shake, shake, spill. Toss, swallow. The continuous rhythm of these motions seem like a dance, one that has been performed before; the movements well known to me.
Before I know it, the orange container is empty, and I am left lying there on the cold marble floor, staring into the deepest of black nothingness.
My body begins to convulse, the rhythmic thump in my chest slows until it’s soundless. Death is finally upon me.