Sick and Back Again
Sarah came to California to hand deliver the flu. I picked her up from the airport and installed her on my newish couch with soup, tea, orange juice, and her particular brand of incomprehensibly Australian soap opera involving sweaty wrestling cowboy brothers. Sarah’s fever doubled after watching two episodes, and by the time two deaths were faked she burst into flames.
“Don’t make fun of me!” she hollered as I chortled over the clairvoyance of one of the main sisters — or was it a cousin? A friend? I don’t know. In any case, by Saturday she was feeling mostly better so we went to the ocean.
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