(Martha's POV):
"Martha, you need to be confident that the medicine will work," Mr. Weston said at last, and I felt faint.
"Alright, sir. But I am famished and I am feeling weak. Can I have something to eat?" I asked him weakly, trying to lie back as I felt my head spinning, like I was seeing double.
"Sure. Let me rush and get you some food. What would you like to eat?" Mr. Weston asked with concern, watching my face.
"Hot potatoes and chicken sauce. You can debit the money from my monthly paycheck," I said at last, as his fingers reached for the door and he swung it open.
"Martha, you shouldn't worry about paying me," Mr. Weston said as he swung the door open and dashed out of the room.
I lay on the bed weakly, wondering how my life had become such a mess.
I stretched my hand to re
