Meredith was curled up on her side, hopefully done with puking. She was far enough away from the tub that she probably wouldn’t hit her head.
Her clothing—a hot pink tank top that matched the dyed sections in her hair and a pair of black sleep shorts—wasn’t constrictive at all. I grabbed a towel from our rack and folded it to put under her head.
“I feel horrible,” Meredith said. I ran a washcloth under hot water and handed it to her. She wiped her face before quickly sitting up, barely making it back to the toilet as she dry heaved.
“Take slow, deep breaths. It might help.” I sat on the edge of the tub next to her, rubbing my hand up and down her back.
She closed her eyes, following my advice. “Have you ever puked before?” “Uh, yeah. I used to be human.”
She started puking again. If p
