The illness of nearly three weeks running is yet to slow its pace. Bed-ridden and weak, I stumble mentally through each day, trying not to fall to the hypothetical floor.
I just got over a bad bout of the shakes, owing to the heat. The fresh sweat on my skin has become stale and run off in rivulets. Dr Seifert claims the malfunctions of my liver have something to do with my body’s revulsion to higher temperatures. Must I stay on my back listening to the whirring of fanblades throughout the whole warm season?
I need to live somewhere where the sun never shines.
