Ch. 3: It's Called BrokenChapter Three: It's Called BrokenCh. 3: It's Called Broken1 year ago in Writing More Like This
Paul laughed, so long and so hard that bile burned at the back of his throat.
He wondered, for a moment, if he could just manage to throw up on this woman, would all his problems leave him in a little slick brown pool on her pants? This got him laughing harder, until he choked, heaved.
"Paul?" Maya was standing now, her right hand moving just slightly toward the blade at her waist.
"Easy," He croaked, holding up a hand. "Take it easy, ginger. This isn't the 'I've been body-snatched' hysteria of an alien baby linking into my brain stem. It's just normal, everyday 'I've been puked on and now I'm in an episode of X-Files-meets-MI5' kind of hysteria."
"Look, love," she began.
"I'm not your love, love. I'm just a thicko who took the Piccadilly Line on the wrong damned day. Things are so far out of control that maybe they'll come all the way back around the other side.