The Spell of the Page
Kari felt like soft lead, lumped and malleable. Getting up was going to take huge forces, realignment of the fundamental laws that governed this particular timespace. She was really fucking tired.
“I gotta go home.”
George was huddled over the Book, squinting redly through dirty glasses. “Tell me you broke the hex.”
“It’s broke ass. Kind of. Half.”
“It’s the best I can do. I’ve got nothing left. Tomorrow night, ok?”
George said nothing; he was lost in the spell of the page. When he looked up next, the sun had dripped over the windowsill and Kari was asleep.