Free Tears of No Return by David Bernstein

and the reason why she never got plastered. But none of that mattered now as the welcomed blackness arrived, falling over her like a shroud.
    She awoke some time later to an awful, nose-burning odor. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes to find a man crouched over her. He was wearing an FDNY paramedic’s uniform and held a small vial of smelling salts, the awful ammonia smell that had woken Karen. Clear-headed and fully awake, she tried sitting up.
    “Karen,” a familiar female voice said. “Are you all right?” The voice was Melanie’s, but she didn’t see the woman. Two paramedics were huddled around Karen, trying to make her lay back down.
    “What’s going on?” Karen asked. “Why are there paramedics here?”
    Melanie came into view, crouching between the two men. She went on to explain how she came home early to find Karen slumped unconscious outside her door.
    “I alerted the front desk and they called for an ambulance,” Melanie said. “Guess I should’ve just called 911.”
    “Well, I’m fine now,” Karen snapped. “They can leave.”
    “Ma’am,” the younger paramedic said. “We should take you to the hospital.”
    “No, I’m fine.”
    “Taking any drugs? Prescription or narcotic?” the other paramedic asked. He was older, had hard eyes and a perfectly trimmed beard. Karen thought it looked manufactured.
    “No,” Karen said, incredulously. “I just ate something bad.” Both men looked at each other. “I’m sorry to appear ungrateful. I know you guys do a wonderful job, but really, I’m fine.”
    Staring at the older paramedic, she heard the man say how fed up he was with people like her, loonies. He stood, ready to leave, but before heading off, he called her a bitch.
    Karen couldn’t believe what the man had said. Sure, she had been a little short, but to insult her like that?
    “Who do you think you are calling me a bitch?” she asked, angrily.
    The man, heading toward the door to leave, stopped and turned around. He had a surprised look on his face.
    “What are you talking about, Karen?” Melanie asked. “No one called you a bitch.”
    “He did,” Karen accused, pointing to the older paramedic.
    “I didn’t say anything,” the man responded, then repeated the insult.
    Karen’s eyes widened. “There, he said it again.”
    “Karen, sweetie,” Melanie said, bending down and putting a hand to her friend’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
    “But I…” Karen began, but quickly fell silent. “Did you hear him call me a bitch?” Karen asked the younger paramedic who was now also standing.
    “No, Ma’am.”
    “Whatever she’s on,” the older man said, “you better get her off it.” He tapped the younger paramedic on the shoulder. “We’re out of here. Can’t force them to accept help.”
    Karen sat, caught in a daze and thinking. Josh had said the gift would take a day or so to work in her. It had been half a day since she’d been infected. Maybe it worked faster in women or smaller-sized people; Josh was a big man.
    Karen looked at the older paramedic walking away. She stared at his head, seeing if she could hear any more thoughts. Nothing. Then the younger paramedic spoke.
    “Ma’am,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Yeah, sorry. Low blood sugar.”
    “And I’m sorry about my partner. He’s new to our unit.”
    “That’s okay,” Karen told him.
    “Well,” Melanie said, “let’s get you something to eat then.”
    Karen rose to her feet with Melanie’s help. Again, she told everyone that she was okay. Walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Karen noticed that her purse was knocked over and a couple of items were strewn about near it. “My purse,” she said.
    “We needed your info, Miss Lakemire,” the young paramedic explained.
    Karen looked at Melanie, her face accusatory.
    “Karen, you’re my best friend, but I don’t know what meds you might be taking. Thought it would be a good idea to see what