Emerick sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. For hours now, he'd been trying to will himself asleep but to no avail. No ammount of tonics, breathing and meditation excercises, or even good old fashion knock out were working. He was too anxious.
The most frustrating thing about the anxiety was the fact it wasn't even related to his work load. That was a nuisance, but hardly what he considered stressful outside of the fact he couldn't clear his head long enough to actually adress it. No, all of it was related to Trixie.
"Why won't you let me help you?" He wondered out loud. If he squinted his eyes just right so that they would water, the pattern of the plaster on his ceiling almost resembled her face shape. "I can tell you are hurting... Is it my fault?"
