Inner-pulsing, like a swelling from the core of my brain, pressing out, out, out against my skull, eyes, ears, temples, like that first one when I was so desperately ill in the ER, my mom begging rushing interns for a damp cloth, for anything to put on my forehead, waiting 9 hours for a doctor, and morphine...so useless.

But not as strong, now. Obviously, or I'd crawl to an ER, feel my way across the cold, course cracks of pavement, eyes useless, directionless, waiting, hoping, praying...relief...relief...

Now, the junior version. Baby-monster. Spawn of spawn. Decidedly uncomfortable, decidedly present, decidedly...decided.