“Sensor, Blood, and a Brothel on the Porch”

It was hot as hell. JJ was sprawled on the porch, swinging his leg to the rhythm of some shitty song on the radio. Haillie had just returned from the chemist’s. In her hand – a new sensor for continuous glucose monitoring. The one that you hook onto your arm. The one that looks a bit like the equipment from The Matrix, only without Keanu Reeves.

“Help me hook this up,” she said shortly, sitting down next to him and throwing the box onto his lap.

JJ looked at him as if he had been given a peppermint mine.

“Fuck, what kind of machinery is this? I’m not a robot technician, Hail.”

“It’s just a sensor, Mr. Hysterical. You put it on, press, and click – done. As easy as taking a beer out of the fridge, only with a needle.”

She slid her blouse off her shoulder. Her skin was tanned, with a slight redness from the previous sensor. JJ hunched over, put the device on, and his hand... was shaking slightly. Not from disgust. From the fact that he suddenly got a kick in the head that this wasn't playing. This is real life.