KAT
Toxic Ground
The toilet has become my morning shrine, and I worship at its porcelain altar with the devotion of the desperately nauseous. Three cubs, Margot said. Three blessed babies who apparently believe their mother's stomach is a trampoline designed for their exclusive entertainment.
"Suzy?" Dave hovers in the doorway, radiating alpha concern so thick I could spread it on toast. If I could keep toast down, which I can't. "Ginger tea? Crackers? My left kidney on a silver platter?"
"Space." The word comes out harsher than intended, but the last thing I need is his overwhelming presence when I'm trying not to revisit last night's dinner. "Just... give me five minutes without your pheromones making everything worse."
He retreats, but I feel him lingering just outside, probably ca
