I rush downstairs for breakfast.
I find Ansel watching some Joel Osteen summon on TV, a Bible on his lap. So he's religious…
He chants a prayer, puts away the Bible and switches off the TV. He then turns to me with a smile,
"Good morning Lovey…"
"Hope I didn't interrupt…"
"No, you -"
He stops talking and looks up at me in worry and concern.
"You look like s**t! Your nose looks like a red, ripe tomato! You need to see a doctor!"
"I'll be fine," I shrug. "I'm just allergic to the cold…"
I sneeze for the millionth time this morning.
"Stop being so stubborn and let's go see a doc!"
"And stop being so stubborn and let it go!"
I mutter and shamble to the kitchen.
"Someone woke up on the left side of the bed," he mumbles as he follows me to the kitchen.
I ignore his st
