The pharmacy was a brightly-lit. The air smelled disinfectant and floral air freshener. Dr. Alistair’s crisp, clinical handwriting was a confession, a detailed list of her own perversion for any bored pharmacist to read.

‘Rx: One tablet, to be taken orally at 8 PM. Muscle relaxant. For severe, systemic hypersensitivity.’

The pharmacist was a cheerful woman with too much makeup and a name tag that read ‘Brenda.’ “My, my, you must have it bad,” she chirped, tapping prescription ...