After a surprisingly unpleasant early Sunday date, I arrived home in a state of weakness. I figured it was psychosomatic as I shivered within my sweatshirt and under the covers despite the balmy June breeze flowing through the windows. Nausea wracked my stomach. I figured that was a reaction to the many awkward moments of earlier that day.
I awoke in the night soaked in sweat, even though the air was chilly. In the morning my pajama top clammily clung to me; I shuddered as I crawled out from beneath the sheets. All this for a bad date? I wondered.
My stomach was no more settled as my breakfast threatened to reappear. My mouth tingled as though blistered. I flung myself back into bed and called in sick.
"Ah," my family said knowingly, figuring it was due to the end of my current short-lived romance. I spent the day feebly fending off phone calls from those trying to give me love advice while I tried to watch Law & Order: Criminal Intent reruns.
"Ah," my family said knowingly, figuring it was due to the end of my current short-lived romance. I spent the day feebly fending off phone calls from those trying to give me love advice while I tried to watch Law & Order: Criminal Intent reruns.
But as the day progressed, my strength came back. The nausea subsided. The chills dissipated.
Wait a sec, I realized, I actually had a fever!
Or did he spike my drink?
4 comments:
You had the flu. Drugs used to spike drinks work very quickly and the next thing you know you're waking up on the street outside his apartment building.
So no roofy then? That's a relief!
How exactly is that post apropos?
luv this one ;)
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