When I was sick

As we go around the bend and up the windy road my stomach twists and turns. I look at the window and see my reflection. I look like a hippo. I feel the vomit fighting its way out. I reach forward and wind the window down. The crisp air brushes my face like a hair brush, but it doesn’t help. I feel the butterflies flying around in circles like a merry go round. “Mum I think I want to be sick”.