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August 16th.
I lie in bed with a box of Kleenex beside me and a bottle of Gatorade on my nightstand. I have been watching Netflix for the last couple of hours, and for the first time in the last 48, my stomach growls hungrily. I get off the bed, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders and go to the kitchen. I put the bowl of chicken soup Andrew brought me yesterday into the microwave, and then go back with it to my bedroom.