I close my eyes for the hundredth time, then open them.
To my disappointment, I am still sick.
I take the thermometer out of my mouth and groan. One hundred one. The fever keeps climbing, no matter what I do.
There is absolutely nothing to do. I've crocheted all I could and I don't have any yarn left. I'm out of paper so I can't write any more poetry. Nothing to do.
Someone knocks on the door. I sure as heck do not want to get up and answer it.
"Hello?" a familiar voice sings.
The strange boy.
I get up because I need someone to talk to, or I think I'll go crazy. I wrap a blanket around my weakening body and shuffle slowly towards the door.
"Hey!" he said, sort of lettting himself in. He looks me over and dismisses the way I look.
Maybe he's not so bad.
"I thought I'd stop by... I haven't seen anyone leave or come into your house for a week..."
"Yeah," I say. "I'm kind of still sick."
"Oh..." his eyebrows move down, concerned. "Where are your parents..."
"Brother," I correct.
He nods.
"He's staying with a relative." Which isn't entirely false. I don't want this stranger to know I've been praying day and night that Jordan will come home. He went to stay with our sick aunt a month ago and I haven't heard from him since. He's still there... I hope... but I need him to come back and take care of me. I'm sick too.
"When will he be back?"
"I'm not sure." I collapse onto the couch again.
"Well..." he started taking off his coat, then felt the chilly air inside the house, and kept it on. "Do you need anything?"
"There's a window in my room that's open," I say. "If you could close it..."
"You have an open window in here?" he yells at me. "That's why you're sick... here..." he tosses his coat to me and takes the steps by two.
I smile to myself and take my tea in my hand. He's strange. But he's nice. I like him.
