"Good night, my fiance."
My vision blurred while my arm crawled over the table. I groped the surface until I touched the fork and grabbed it. My instinct was to keep myself awake. I channeled all my energy to my arm, lifting it up and swinging it down to my thigh.
The pain that I expected to wake me up didn't come. What came was a large hand grabbing my wrist, making me look at Luis weakly.
"Admirable, but stupid," he said, snatching the fork from my grip. "My fiance, if you think I drugged you, I didn't. I simply don't panic about the things I have no control over..."
His voice sounded distant and very far. Still, his tone and presence reassured me this was all my fault. Stupid drink! No, I think it was my stupidity. No, it was my throat! Goodness. Even on the verge of passing out, I couldn't take myself seriously.
"Just how do I expect my husband to take me seriously...?" I whispered before falling into darkness, my old friend.
