Dean leans over the toilet, stomach churning, nauseous as hell.
Fucking road stop diner.
He tastes the bile in the back of his throat, as the saliva pools under his tongue.
It won't be long now, as he feels it getting closer and closer.
As much as he doesn't want to, he knows that he will feel better after it is gone.
He leans over the bowl as his stomach jumps, digested food rising up his throat like a volcano about to erupt.
He lets it come and when he is done he leans back against the cool wall.
Relief.