Chapter 7

“Coming,” he groans, not loud enough for his caller to hear him. As he levels himself up on an elbow and heaves his body over the edge of the bed, he suddenly feels lightheaded. Black dots float in front of his face. It is as if a hand yanks him back down into the sheets, his head falls backwards into the mound of pillows.

He shuts his eyes and releases a frustrated sigh. Nausea churns his stomach.

The earnestness in the third rap sounds like fireworks going off in Josh’s head. “Coming,” he says louder, but it comes out as a croak. He rises cautiously out of his horizontal position and sits on the frame of the mattress, his head falling in front of him, eyes closed. Afraid he might fall, he stands up slowly, gripping the edge of the nightstand.