The next memory that came is at least six weeks later.
Joseph looks at me with concern on his face. He also has something in his hand. It isn’t until he puts it to my mouth that I realize it’s soup. I push his hand away, my stomach feel sick and I almost don’t make it to the pot beside my bed. Joseph holds my hair and wipes the back of my neck.
"What can I do to help? You haven't eaten in two days."
I don't really think he’s looking for an answer, he’s been asking that since he woke up. I shake my head; there isn't really anything he can do.
"I have to meet Adam in a few hours. How can I leave you here like this?"
I wave the question off. I can sleep the whole time and be just fine. I don't think that whatever is causing me to be sick will kill me. I lay back down and close my eyes. J
