Weekend in bed
On Wednesday I received a text from David. “Any idea when you are due on Friday?” “I’d rather not come, got the sniffles”, I texted back. “Poor excuse MacDonald. Get ur skinny arse over.” I did not reply. Thursday he texted again. “What r u up to tonight?” “Nothing the antibiotics are fucking me up” He did not reply. When I came home on Friday I sighed, and coughed. I had made it through the week, somehow. Now I was exhausted, tired, fucked. Bed, undress first, take the antibiotics. I even had to concentrate on these little things. I just dropped my stuff on the floor, put on my long shirt and the shorts and slipped under the blanket. The knocking at my door woke me. It was dark, I must have been asleep for …