Arrrrgh

This is why I sometimes hate myself.

I spent all of last week trying to figure out how to write what I envisioned for the next scene in Curse/Or.

Finally, tonight, I have this:

"Christ," Teresa said jovially, "I look like complete shit." A blood vessel had burst within her right eye, staining the sclera just beneath the pupil a vicious scarlet, and she examined it in the ladies' room mirror. She laughed hoarsely. "Utter dogshit."

The cold water stung her eyes as she splashed it onto her face with trembling hands, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her pulse was hammering in her head, and if she thought about it too long, that itch on the back of throat made her want to vomit.

She'd just performed the most potent magical act of her life, and it felt like two hours of rough sex. She could barely stand, let alone walk.

She was utterly wrecked.

She felt wonderful.

God damn, she thought with an idiot grin, I'm high.

So, okay, yeah, that's pretty good. I like how that sounds, what it evokes, and it gives me something to build upon as I develop the scene.

But god damn, did it really need to take me nine days to come up with this?