Sick Day

There is nothing quite like the feel of a fresh sheet stretched over icy leather couch cushions. A cool autumn breeze from the cracked window that lets the suns warm rays seep in behind you as a cold wet cloth sits on your forehead. You feel it warming with every second, almost like it is sucking your fever into itself. The empty bucket placed on the floor has just been cleaned, the remainder of cool bath water used to wash it out releases an odd smell in the wind, but it isn’t unpleasant. A book rests on your chest, your stomach is churning. Whether the feeling is from illness or hunger- you are not sure. You reach for the glass of clear soda left on the coffee table for you, it has created a puddle of condensation that has dampened the paper towel full of crumbs where half a piece of toast sits becoming stale and lukewarm.

The soda is a cold stream going down your throat, with a most satisfying gulp you can feel the liquid tickle and race to your stomach. A sensation that would have made you queazy only hours ago has become relaxing.

You close your eyes and listen to the chirping birds outside. Fall alseep.