Too Much

~OR~

The Longest Day of My Life

After my champion death race, I went out to breakfast. Had buttered toast, because sometimes that happens. Because I hate being a picky-pants diner and asking too much of my server. Dad ordered me coffee, and though I never drink more than a quarter cup, I sipped the whole thing down, steadily, as it was hot on my red, raw tonsils.

I’ve long wondered what would happen if I drank so much caffeine. I’d thought it would make me jittery, nervous, sweaty.

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