“You...you want me to do your eyebrows? Babe, I don’t know--”Carrie’s sudden laugh interrupted him, “Oh, God no.” She pet his hand gently,...“I love you very much, but there is no way in hell I’d let you touch my brows.”Derrick casually picked up one of the wooden sticks to examine it. “Then what are we waxing?” he asked absentmindedly before pointing the stick at her. “Your mustache?”Carrie plastered a fake pout across her face, “Derrick, you know I’m very sensitive about my mustache.” The. A thin sheen of sweat covers her forehead, matting some tendrils of dark wavy hair to her slick skin. “Are you there baby?”She blinks her eyes and rubs them, trying to focus and adjust to the darkness. A small glimmer of ambient light hovers in the room, casting silhouetted outlines for her to make out. The clock on her bedside nightstand reads 4:19AM. Her brain, still foggy from the Ambien, wrestles with the strictures put on her subconsciousness by the drug. Ever since the accident, she is. More

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