The Note Under the Table
Around one in the morning, the preliminary results came back.
Whatever had been in that mug was not an herbal supplement.
It was a prescription medication, present at a concentration far beyond any amount a doctor would ever administer — a dose the toxicologist described, plainly, as more than enough to kill an adult.
I did not need the clinical words.
I had trained as a physician.
I understood exactly what a lethal dose meant, and I understood that it had been waiting for me in a warm mug with my name on it.
I will not put the details here, and it is not only the law that keeps me from it.