2:00 a.m. and Fio woke up feeling great, freed from her rind of headache and depression by the paring knife of hydrocodone. The future looked bright and everything seemed possible. Come morning, she'd finish her latest novel, clean out her study that's been a storage dump for a year, touch up those paintings she's been meaning to work on, gather everything she's ever written into one huge olio, and single-handedly fill in all the driveway ruts. She'd also lose twenty pounds. That should set her up for all the stuff she wants to do the next day.
Four hours later, in the cold light of dawn, Fio understands why people get addicted to drugs like hydrocodone.