Until It's You by C.B. Salem

face. She opened her eyes and saw a blur of ads on the windows, framed by the glare from the train's semi-transparent exterior.
    Finally, it came to a stop and the doors opened. There were men on the platform and even in the window of the train. Blonde hair, dark hair, stubble, clean-shaven, round heads, square heads, dark skin, light skin—anything she could have asked about playing Guess Who as a child, it was there.
    They were not off-clones of Landon. The world had snapped back into place. At least part of the pharm had worn off.
    She was free. Just as she’d kind of begun to get used to it, she was free.
    She stepped into the train and sat down. The doors closed. She stared straight ahead, willing herself not to look around at the different faces. Nausea overcame her and she had to close her eyes.
    The train rolled into motion, She put her head back against the glass and opened her eyes, slowly.
    An old woman with short, wiry gray hair and black-framed glasses was studying her. Her lively green eyes wrinkled at the corners.
    “Are you alright, dear?” the woman asked.
    Her voice was stronger than Kristina would have expected. So much that she wasn't sure if she might be imagining it. 
    Kristina forced herself to smile. “I’m okay, sorry. Just a little dizzy this morning. Makes me nauseous. Must be something I caught in the air.”
    The old woman's expression didn’t change as she nodded sagely. “That happens a lot these days.”
    ***
    Twice she feared she would be unable to fight down the urge to vomit on the train, but she prevailed. After thirty minutes of public commuting hell, Kristina got off and walked through the glass and steel canyons of downtown. Cars, buses, and people glided by. If they were making any noise at all, she didn't notice. With every step, she fought the urge to sit down and wait for the nausea to pass. This thing wasn't passing on its own.
    No. She needed a Walgreens. If she didn't get an anti-nausea pharm in her system fast, there was going to be a scene. Not exactly ideal to be puking your guts out onto the sidewalk when you were trying to be blend into a crowd.
    Thankfully, the shining red beacon of Chicago's favorite pharmacist shone down on her after just a block and a half. She stepped through the bubble glass doors and made straight for the pharm counter. An ELIGO machine opened up. She went to it and sifted quickly through the menus to get to NausEase. After adding it to her cart, she hit the button to checkout. Payment options appeared on the screen.
    The cash option was grayed out.
    Fighting panic—and the gross feeling in her stomach—she looked for an associate to help her. A huge man with a shaved head caught her eye. He wore the Walgreen's employee uniform of powder-blue button down and navy tie. She put her hand up to signal to him and he came over.
    "It won't let me pay with cash," she said.
    He looked at the machine, then back at her, starting at her feet and working his way up. His eyes narrowed. "Why do you need to pay with cash?"
    She shrugged. "Does it matter?"
    "Well, it's obviously causing an issue for you. So yes, it matters. You in some kind of trouble?"
    Bile rose up in her chest. "Listen, I might throw up at any minute, and that could be messy." She squared up to him, even if he was almost a foot taller than her. "Can you check me out or not?"
    He sighed. Stepped in front of her rudely, muttering under his breath as he did something on the screen. A printout dispensed from the bottom tray. He took it and walked wordlessly to the pharmacy counter. Kristina followed, fuming. He disappeared behind the counter and came out with a clean black box with NAUSEASE written on the front.
    "Twenty-two eighty-seven," he said gruffly. Kristina slid twenty-five dollars across the table.
    He took the money and counted out change, then slid it back across the counter. She took it, then reached for her purchase
    His hand went on top. "You people need to cut this out," he said