Illness

A knot of pressure sat heavily behind his eyes, seeming to have migrated from lower in his sinuses. What more his throat felt as through he had been devouring handfuls of sand. Every swallow was painful and every cough threatened to detach his lungs and expel them as bloody lumps.

That was how it felt at least as he laid cocooned in his fleecy blanket. He had always hated getting sick but he hated it even more when he was alone. Not that he expected anyone to take care of him it just would have cheered him to have someone look in on him. Instead he was experiencing the one-two punch of sickness and loneliness so he was completely miserable.

Hacking terribly he trudged into the kitchen, the blanket dragging behind him like an overgrown tail. Saltwater. He grimaced at the cloudy glass but despite the taste gargling it had proven at least temporarily to relieve his throat.

The road though outside his kitchen window was silent, his house was silent, and whole world seemed to stop except for his own spewing of water. If he could sleep it would be nice but he couldn’t.  It was devastatingly empty and anything he did to introduce sound only softened it.

For now he simply crawled back into bed listening to the silence.