And at the moment life was quite good, actually. I got used to letting the job and the rest of the world sail away. The thought was intoxicated. To just having myself to care about.
I got better. But I had to stay in bed a bit more, to stay in quarantene. I was reading a book. Watching television. Listening to music. I did everything I wanted.
And my wife served me with dinner. And everything else.
-Is there anything you need, she asked.
-Maybe some juice, I answered.
Her stomach was enormous. It must have goten even bigger since last time I saw her. She put a glas of juice on the stairs.
-How are you, she asked.
-Better, I replied. -But I need to stay in bed for a little longer.
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