The world was a blurry caricature of itself. The edges were too smeared and the colors too liquid and everything had a foggy quality to it that Eliza knew was wrong. It felt like she could taste the reds of the world and barely swallow the sharp yellow pain of it in her throat. Eliza had felt a tickle that morning, but chugged enough DayQuil to see God through the cracks in the clouds before noon. She then ate an entire orange and pushed through class like a soldier through bullet spray.

She knew she was burning up throughout the day, but, as the saying goes, with enough painkillers and coffee anything was possible.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” Eliza was sitting with her friends in the cafeteria and staring at nothing. “Dude, Eliza.” Sebastian, or “Seb,” Gomez with his spiky hair and skateboard propped up nearby reached for her. A cool hand grazed her forehead, “What the fuck." He stared, "I don’t normally say this to girls, but you are so fucking hot.”

Eliza snapped to attention and swatted his hand away. “I just have a little fever.”

Joany sitting to her right scooted farther away from her. “And you came to campus anyway?” She shook her head, “you should like, actually, seriously get some rest.”

Eliza could barely focus on her as she spoke. Joany's mouth was moving but there was a haze of mist between the two of them that cottoned the noise.

“Eliza!” Joany nudged her, “you should go home.”

She looked around. “I can’t.” She sniffled. “I barely finished my comparative art history homework.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll get any more of it done today.” Joany Chen with her black hair in two messy braids and vintage overalls studied her. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”

Eliza swayed in place. “Nope.” She looked down at her phone. “It’s too soon… I never go home this early… it’ll upset my roommate.”

“Then get a new roommate, jeez!” Joany said and wrinkled her nose.

Eliza thunked her face down on the table and felt the cool plastic leach into her skin. She tried to swallow again but her last dose of aspirins was wearing off. “Ugh,” she groaned, “she doesn’t even like me.”

“Who?” Seb was still munching on his croutons from the salad bar. He only got croutons from the salad bar which Eliza would normally berate him for.

“Mickey,” she shifted in place, “she doesn’t like me.”

“What?” Joany shook her head, “then you definitely need a new roommate then. I thought you said she was cool.”

Eliza tried to form thoughts but all that came back were notions and vague suggestions. “I don’t feel well.” She admitted with spikes in her throat.

“Okay, up, up.”

Joany ushered to her feet and took both of their trays to the counter.

Joany was a fellow art history student that doubled in art itself. Pottery to be exact, huge enormous pots that took up entire corners of rooms with the odd or abstract drawings or sesame street characters she painted on them. She was the type of girl who moved through the world like it was music and she was the conductor, who couldn’t calculate restaurant tips but could stand for hours in front of clay just staring at it. Looking for something.

Eliza herself was not an artist in any way. She sometimes wondered what Joany saw in the clay when she was staring at it.

She was considering this as they turned together and started walking back to the apartments along the thin strip of river next to their campus. Joany distracted her with pictures of her latest work: an enormous floral pot where the flowers each had unique baby faces.

Eliza kept nodding and feeling like she was about to fall over or else the world itself was about to tip sideways like a salt shaker and pour out all of it’s contents. She stopped in place at one point to hold her head, “do you have NyQuil?”

Joany’s brow furrowed in, “unfortunately not.” She patted her shoulder, “But we could, uh, take you to the doctors tonight? The ER is always--”

Eliza fervently shook her head. “Don’t want to see my mom.” She muttered, “can’t see my mom.”

“Right, right,” Joany just led her all the way back to her apartment and Eliza waved her off.

“I’m okay,” she said despite a pulse in her head that kept pounding against her skull. “Just need to sleep.”

“Alright,” Joany felt her forehead again. “You text me when you get into bed, and then again in the morning just to let me know how’re you’re doing, k?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded and that was a bad idea. “Gonna go now.” Eliza teetered up the stairs like they were funhouse steps and barely made it to her door. NyQuil, she thought, I bet Mickey has NyQuil. She has everything.

Eliza slipped into her apartment, heaved her backpack down on the floor, and found her way to Mickey’s bedroom door. “Hey,” she pushed her way in on unsteady feet. “Do you have any…” She stopped halfway. She peered into the room and it came into focus after a creaking second.

And she was suddenly very focused.

Mickey was on the floor in the corner with a plaid blue blanket laid out under her. Her laptop was open and facing her. She was wearing a classic sports jacket and tennis shoes. And cotton white panties.

“Uh,” Eliza blinked.

The jacket was all the way unzipped and revealed strips of bare skin. A river of flesh and soft curving bits. Her tits were pert, b-cups, brown nipples perfectly erect and staring back at Eliza like an accusation. Mickey was squeezing one of them and her other hand was down her cotton panties.

Eliza’s mouth got very dry and the inferno in her body went in every which direction like lost tourists with no regard for speed limits. She spent way too long gaping at her roommate masturbating with the computer open. Her eyes drawn up and down and then up again.

Mickey slowly withdrew her fingers with surprised jerky movements. Two of them were glistening and wet.

Eliza was brought down into that moment with a screeching, wrenching crash. Something churned with a guilty veracity in her guts as she looked at those slick fingers. She kept gaping. Mickey moved to shut her computer and Eliza finally turned around in dizzying circles away from her.

She closed the door and felt her way to the couch. She kept meaning to form words, but they never came.

“So I can explain.” She heard Mickey call through the door.

“Sorry,” Eliza garbled out and went to collapse on the couch. “I should have knocked. Sorry.”

“Yes, I mean seriously yes, but I need to tell you something.”

Eliza was staring at the ceiling. She had somehow fallen back onto the couch, “I get it.” Her face was burning. It was all burning. “I totally get it. No explanation needed.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you though…” Mickey emerged from the bedroom with the jacket zipped up and in a pair of shorts. “I’ve been planning to just, you know, let you know.”

Eliza’s mouth fell open and then closed, “God, everything is spinning.”

“Wait, are you alright?”

Eliza nodded, threw up a peace sign, and then closed her eyes. Everything was quickly gone. Sucked up like a used napkin into a vacuum cleaner and leaving her spent and floating. Floating forever, listless, empty, dreaming of Mickey spreading her legs over and over again to reveal lengths of soft inner thigh. Landing strips that Eliza’s weakly followed down and down into a world of soft hot tar and nothing else.