Three drops or else it was too painful, too drawn out, and too violent.

But he was a large man, so she put in four. And she wanted to be sure, so what could one more drop hurt.

Five drops swirled in her ring as they twirled across the dance floor. It was sealed tight, but she was nervous about it spilling. It would spill on her, and she didn’t know what would happen if five drops of it touched her skin.

The five drops settled, sitting calmly on the table as the dancing went on into the night. Drinking came with dancing, the night gave way to morning, and someone bumped the table. A drunken mistake, certainly, not deliberate sabotage, but the jeweled ring rolled off the table, a tiny switch giving way to a minuscule spike.

She was tired from dancing, they were all tired from dancing. She flung off her shoes and walked back to table, prepared to finish what she came for. Her foot stung, twitched, and throbbed, pain and poison rushing through every artery and every vein. Too painful was an understatement.