Eating me up from the inside; an insidious thing that I cannot shake. It gets worse day by day, hour by hour.
They shake their heads and tut loudly, prod and poke me, hook me up to their machines in the hope of saving me. But I am old and worn out now.
I’ve withstood other viruses, come through unscathed. But old age is a bugger and there’s no escaping it.
Another prod and poke. I black out.
When I come to, I am sitting on top of another laptop.
“Virus get you too?” I ask.
“No. A flipping upgrade.”
