Fade to NothingDavid
Felicia took a deep breath, heaved, and threw up, her petite body shuddering as the last bit of bile-corroded food left her mouth. Kneeling on the floor, bent over her porcelain god, Felicia coughed, choked, spit out bruschetta and pasta, iced tea and crème bruleé. She was lovely then, loose strands of hair hanging from the side of her face, eyes slightly glazed from the purging.
“You okay?” I asked from where I stood behind her, holding her hair up to keep it from falling.
“Fine,” she whispered, closing her eyes, heaving again and coming up with nothing except a few last gobs of saliva and a handful of puke-fouled air.
“Let’s get you up,” I said, hauling her to her feet.
She paused—to make sure that she had regurgitated the last of her stomach’s contents—before l
