5
I took a sip of my early morning coffee and spat it back into the sink immediately and blinking at the mug like it was the one with the problem. The coffee had tasted bitter and acidic, like I had licked a rusted pipe.
It was the same coffee making ritual that I had followed for the past three years, and yet the taste made me want to throw up so bad.
My reflection in the microwave stared back, looking unimpressed. There was something different about it. My face, that is. Not bad-different. Just… off, like my face had changed overnight.
I rinsed my mouth and reached for the salt shaker. I poured a pinch on my palm and licked it.
It tasted like… sweet.
“Oh,” I muttered, blinking. “That’s new.”
By day three, I could hear my neighbor sneaking a smoke on the fire escape four floors dow
