The screaming whistle of the tea kettle brought me out of my trance. I reach for the kettle sluggishly, my fingers barely registering the contact of the silver handle. It’s as if my whole body was trapped in a gelatinous box. Every move, no matter how slight, travels in space far longer than it needs to, gravity pushing down on my fragile bones as they fight their way through the jelly-filled space. The tea kettle makes it to the other side of the kitchen. I don’t know how. There are moments like that now. Moments where I move without realizing it, moments where I just nod along, saying “Yeah, alright, no problem” even if it is a problem. Nick says I should go to a doctor or a psychologist or something. I tell him I don’t have time, that the kids need to be at rugby practice in thirty minutes or that Mrs. Paisly from flat 4B needs help finding her keys again. He just stares at me when I say things like this, his once bright hazel eyes grow dark and dim. I’m afraid he’ll set up an intervention. He’d invite my parents, my sisters, probably even Father What’s-His-Name from the church he still goes to, even though I tell him constantly that I don’t want anything to do with organized religion.  

“Lou.”  

The way he says my name sounds worse than the screaming kettle. I don’t answer him. Instead, I grab a packet of sugar, flicking the middle until all the grains are neatly in place.  

“Lou, I’m leaving.” I don’t need to turn around. I know he’s in his grey suit, holding a navy, checkered umbrella in one hand and a worn, brown leather briefcase in the other.  

“Mhm,” Is the only response I give him. The door clicks shut. I tear open the sugar packet.  

I find myself in the study surrounded by towering bookshelves cluttered with books entitled, “The Five Ds of Entrepreneurship” and “Don’t Start a Business, Build an Empire”. There was a time when broken crayons littered the floor of the study and a staticky radio would blare old Queen hits while two kids and their mom stamped their feet and howled that they needed somebody to love. Nick mostly uses the study now. But here I am, standing in the center of the room surrounded by boring books and a growing sense that my life is falling apart.  

That’s when I see the dragon outside my window.