7
The next morning I found myself returning to the headache source. I rapped on Mrs. Janowski’s door.
“Come in!” Mrs. Janowski yelped.
I let myself in and then hollered, “Where are you?”
“Bedroom. Come on up,” she answered in a strained voice.
I followed the trail of her voice and climbed the stairs.
“Last door on the left,” she added.
The door was cracked open. I inched it open to peek inside and only found darkness.
“Mrs. J.?”
“Open the shade,” she requested.
I padded over to the window that was emitting a s***h of light onto the ground. Pulling on the string to draw the shade, the room flooded with morning rays. Mrs. Janowski squinted at the sudden brightness.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, glancing at her before scanning the room. It was pink. Pink and frilly.
Odd.
I’m no
