In a commune full of big, strapping, ridiculously-healthy men it's almost hilarious how the germs go in circles, bypassing everyone with any seriousness until they get to me. The weakest link. The runt, as it were, feral girl prone to every last crumb of sickness and once I get and develop it into a full-blown illness then I give it back to everyone, they work through it and then it lingers only to infect me once more.
It's not Covid. I've been tested twice now. It's just the flu. Probably because I sleep three or four hours a night and just run on white-knuckle breath-held vibrations and that never changes. Lochlan was running a mild fever too this morning almost as if on instruction, as the doctor said this will run it's course in a few days and to call him if anyone spikes a fever over 104 or if we can't keep control of the symptoms. I worry slightly about Caleb and about New Jake who are both men with health concerns but they both seem fine.
(Do not even ask me why New Jake wouldn't be fine because I ain't talking.)
Daniel has the sniffles but no fever. PJ coughed once and Caleb glared at him until he lied and said he breathed his coffee by mistake instead of swallowing it, and otherwise everything seems good so at least it's not pneumonia (I still have at least eight weeks to get that and I'm sure there's one with my name on it waiting in the wings, as ever) and it's not bronchitis. The other favourite.
I lamented being sick all the time and Lochlan pointed out germs are heavier than air so it makes sense if I'm shorter I catch more. Like krill for a baleen whale. I'm just walking through life filtering them with my teeth.
A vision.
Indeed.