My left eye

Something was wrong. Tired, and exhausted, I had been trying to get into the Liverpool Street underground, but the concourse was packed in an effort to control people on the platforms.

Making my way into the main station, I lay down on the hard floor. Face down. I had expected it to be cold, but it was lukewarm. Struggling, I got up and made my way home.

Standing in the bathroom, I looked into the mirror. Everything was slow, heavy, dragging. The pupil of my left eye was tiny, yet the pupils of my other two eyes appeared completely normal.