George Harrison kept going on and on, “You need to take the strong meds. These regular cold pills don't do crap. And seriously, this flu is weird as hell. Your fever went down before we got home, and the next second, boom, it’s back up again. Come on, eat something and then take the meds.”
My head felt all hazy, but seeing George fuss over me like that oddly softened my heart. For a second, I thought of how I used to look after Ronald Wright in my previous life.
Some vague memories tried to surface but slipped away before I could catch them. Under George’s relentless spoon-feeding, I finally managed to eat a little and take the medicine. Soon after, I passed out again.
The next time I woke up, it was already dark outside. My fever had dropped to 38°C, and my mind felt much clear
