The next morning, when the pressure returned, Elara didn’t reach for the decongestant. She sat on the edge of her bed, closed her eyes, and placed her fingers on her eyebrows.
Elara glared. “Unless ‘pressure point’ means hitting my head against the wall, no.” massages to clear sinuses
Cold, clean, miraculous air.
And she breathed free.
Leo put his book down. He was a lanky yoga enthusiast who believed the cure for everything from heartbreak to hiccups was touch. “Lie down. Trust me. It’s not magic, it’s just drainage.” The next morning, when the pressure returned, Elara
“Whoa,” she whispered.
Elara woke up to the feeling of a tiny, angry dwarf hammering the inside of her forehead. It was the fourth day of "The Plague," as she called her seasonal allergies. Her nose was a stopped-up faucet, her teeth ached, and her voice had dropped to a baritone groan. “Unless ‘pressure point’ means hitting my head against