So the lump is still there. The head is spinning or the room is spinning or both.
I woke up this morning when my cousin came home, I sat there weakly on the couch.
“Hi,” he says, glancing up as he walked by.
I tried to organise my thoughts, my throat and tongue to make a response, but it came to late and too weakly. He was down the stairs before my croak could be heard. Or maybe he ignored me.
I walked to the top of the stairs and sat down. Leaning against the wall for support and tried to tell him I was sick; ask if he could bring some orange juice when he came back and whether his mother was still coming, but he was out the door before any of the words came. Out the door without a glance at me, or another word.
Water came to my eyes, as he left, because even if I had managed to say anything, I didn’t think I could handle another of his short, sullen comments… about anything.
Then I got up, crawled down stairs, leaned on the counter and made myself some hot cocoa.
I’ve just finished it; my head is still spinning and my throat hurts.
I’m going to bed.