I poked the man in the chest.
No flinching, no moving, no blinking. No blinking? I poked him again to make sure. Definitely no blinking. He was one of those creepy wax statues, a sick grin on his face like a clown who broke loose from the circus.
I glared at him. All I needed was an aspirin for my headache, not some lewd pick up line and a practical joke.
With a sigh, I turned on my heel and made for the door.
I walked by the cosmetic aisle and spared a quick look at my face. My eyes had always been green, but never chartreuse, and never so swollen. A face appeared in the mirror behind me and I shrieked, stumbling backwards into a display of nail polish. Bottles skittered everywhere and I clenched my teeth as my headache kicked up a notch.
I turned to blame the jerk who surprised me, but there was no one there.
Muttering under my breath and vowing to get some more rest, I went outside, hit the auto unlocker on my keychain, opened the door to my red Ferrari Spider, and climbed inside. The Spider flaunted wealth that I knew I didn't have or put into any other aspect of my life. But I loved fast cars and it was a testament to my new American life, with an Italian spin of course. It had taken me years to save up for this beast.