All the white sugar brown sugar cinnamon pecan ginger mulberry mush in her tummy is coming to
Lyn kneels, one hand stomach one hand head the flat so hot burning lurching all at sea tilt
Thinks: air, what time is it, phone.
Lyn takes deep breaths, the stereo blinks 22.21 22.22.
She looks for her phone in her pocket, on all the kitchen surfaces, in the bathroom, through her tidied bedroom, in her handbag, her coat pockets, the shelves by the door, the shelves by the TV, behind the TV, down the sofa cushions, under the sofa, the chairs, down the chair cushions – stops for a few big swallow gulps – on the table, in the fridge, her coat pockets, her handbag, her pocket.
The phone is on her polished aluminium balcony table. Interlocking embossed rings.
Missed call. No message. She presses PETE.