After reading over everything a couple of times to check for errors, I click Publish. I then post to Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, letting everyone know that a new recipe is up.
There.
I then remember I wanted to do something nice for Mum. I spoke to her last night on the phone, and she’s going through a bit of a rough patch. I open up a florist website that delivers to her area and pick out a brightly coloured bouquet of gerberas. In the accompanying message, I say I hope she’s feeling a bit better and that I’ll visit her soon.
I sit back and rest my arms behind my head.
What now? I was supposed to plan a few recipes for next week, which is why I was in the garage earlier looking for inspiration, but I don’t really feel like doing that now. I could go to the gym, but it’s pouring rain outside, and I don’t want to get wet.
I think back to Ed’s earlier behaviour. Surely his reaction was a bit over the top? My husband is usually oblivious to what I do in the mornings because he’s busy getting ready for work. I’ve learned to give him his space so he can read the news and eat his breakfast in peace. The only time we really exchange words is when I give him his morning coffee, and even then it’s mostly just me asking if he’s got a big day ahead. He explained to me once that he has a particular set of thought processes that allow him to mentally prepare for the demands of his job, and any external distractions can have severe negative consequences for his clients.
The last thing I want to do is inadvertently contribute to one of Ed’s clients going to jail, so I always try and save any news I want to talk about until after he gets home in the evening.
Anyway, my point is, to have him be that affected by me flicking through an ancient high school diary is kind of strange.
There’s a knock at the door, happily giving me something else to focus on. I pad down the hall and collect a small box lying on my front step. The delivery guy has already disappeared. Weird. I don’t remember ever getting a delivery on a Saturday before.
I carry it through to the dining room, tear off the packing tape and peek inside. It looks like my latest bunch of supplements have arrived.
I pull out the containers, one by one, and place them on the dining table.
The first is greens powder. I could probably put that in my next smoothie recipe. The second and third jars are flavoured protein. I could maybe put them in an energy ball or slice.
The last jar is much smaller than the others. I hold it up and read the label.
YOUTH COMPOUND – Wind back the years with our revolutionary formula.
Feel instantly energised!
Dosage: Half a teaspoon dissolved in room temperature water. Effects will last for approximately twelve hours.
30 doses.
Twelve hours? Is that all? Is it supposed to have some sort of cumulative effect over time or something? I open the jar and smell the contents. It has a faint chlorine scent and looks like salt crystals. I shrug and go to the sink to fill a glass with water, sprinkling a few of the crystals on top.
The water bubbles and turns purple. I wait until it has fully dissolved before taking a sip.
Yuck! It’s a good thing I trust this company’s products. It’s like drinking poison! If they want me to advertise this for them, they’re going to have to work on the taste.
I down the rest in one gulp and wince. Maybe next time, I could disguise the flavour with some juice or sweetener.
I wonder how I’ll know if it’s working. Will it be like a caffeine rush? Or an alcohol buzz?
I might have a shower while I wait. I don’t want to be too distracted if the effects are only subtle. I walk towards the bedroom, starting to undress along the way, but before I even get there, I begin to feel woozy. Wow. This stuff is strong.
I unsteadily make my way to the bed and plonk down on the edge, flopping backwards and staring at the ceiling. My vision swirls. I hope I haven’t overdosed. Maybe I should call an ambulance.
The spinning gets faster. And faster.
Then everything goes black.
ALSO BY KIRSTY MCMANUS
I Thought It Was You
http://mybook.to/IThoughtItWasYou
1997
http://mybook.to/1997
1996
http://mybook.to/1996
MultiDate
http://mybook.to/MultiDate
Lightweight
http://mybook.to/Lightweight
Perfume Therapy
http://mybook.to/PerfumeTherapy
Saved by the Celebutante
http://mybook.to/SavedByTheCelebutante
Zen Queen
http://mybook.to/ZenQueen
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kirsty McManus was born in Sydney, Australia and moved to Queensland when she was 14. When she was 25, she lived in Japan for a year with her partner Kesh and worked as an English teacher. This was the inspiration behind her debut novel, Zen Queen. She also spent a year in Canada and then settled back down on the Sunshine Coast in 2008. She now writes almost full time, designs the occasional website and looks after her two little boys.
Mind Reader Page 19