KAVI
Kavi's head throbbed. Her brains slithered out her ears. The room swirled like an out-of-control carousel, its carnie long gone, the steadying hand off smoking pot behind the pop-a-shot. Wooden furniture and silver mirrors and green walls slurred to a color approximating vomit. She struggled against the spinning to stay in her body. She took deep breaths into her stomach, just like the doc had suggested. "Concentrate on what you can control," is what James would say. "Keep focus. This too will pass." Except what Kavi could control was exactly fuck all. She stared at chair beneath her. A small bronze plaque affixed to its arm read, "Furniture Donated by Friends of the Bakersville Public Library, Barbara Ann Leslie, Director." Kavi groaned. Even in fucking prison, she couldn't escape work.