When I woke up Tuesday morning I felt even worse. My head was spinning rapidly, probably because my brain was removed and re-inserted within the same twenty-four hours. I was boiling under a thin cover in deep fall. When I didn’t make it off the bed in time to reach my first class for the day grandma was in my room. She looked angrier, puffier, and more discolored than a storm cloud in a hurricane. She pummeled me with nasty remarks, each one resembled a sledge hammer knocking into my heart. After bashing me with insults for a good part of an hour, she chucked a bowl of piping hot liquid towards me. It burned my fingers as it toppled over into my lap. It was an odd color of cinnamon. It looked more like cinnamon mixed with milk and lots of paprika. The plethora of Indian herbs barged into my nose. This odd colored liquid was the soup my grandmother made for me when I was sick. It was the only thing she did to aid me when I was sick.
The day passed slowly, or at least it seemed that way to me. Everything was glazed over in a deep haze. All I really remember is continuously waking up, and continuously falling back to sleep. I woke up for good at 8:00 pm, where I was thrown another bowl of soup. This time the soup was thicker, it was made rich with helpings of meat and rice. I should be grateful, but I wasn’t. She didn’t make this for me, this was the soup my grandfather liked the most. She probably only gave me this because she knew she wasn’t allowed to starve her only granddaughter.
By the time everyone was asleep I was wide awake and restless. I was feeling better overall despite the fatigue that naturally came with the symptoms of being sick. With the dizziness gone and the fever broken I decided to at least try and do something productive. Asusual the first thing I checked was my e-mail, looking for any updates dealing with school, or any upcoming assignments. I didn’t find what I was looking for. No one probably even knew I was gone, no one probably cared besides me. This sad fact only reminded me that I would have to work so much harder tomorrow to catch up all by myself.
I did find one e-mail though. It was from my new supposed cyber tutor RC_WRITER. I was partially grateful that someone in the world remembered my sorry existence. Replying to his
e-mail picked me up, just a bit. When I was done, all I had left to do was stare at the faded tawny walls. The earliest he’s probably reply is late tomorrow evening, seeing how it’s a weekday and all. I find myself thinking unexpectedly. I felt a sliver of somber feelings slowly drip down into my core. I wonder what brought that on.
The day passed slowly, or at least it seemed that way to me. Everything was glazed over in a deep haze. All I really remember is continuously waking up, and continuously falling back to sleep. I woke up for good at 8:00 pm, where I was thrown another bowl of soup. This time the soup was thicker, it was made rich with helpings of meat and rice. I should be grateful, but I wasn’t. She didn’t make this for me, this was the soup my grandfather liked the most. She probably only gave me this because she knew she wasn’t allowed to starve her only granddaughter.
By the time everyone was asleep I was wide awake and restless. I was feeling better overall despite the fatigue that naturally came with the symptoms of being sick. With the dizziness gone and the fever broken I decided to at least try and do something productive. Asusual the first thing I checked was my e-mail, looking for any updates dealing with school, or any upcoming assignments. I didn’t find what I was looking for. No one probably even knew I was gone, no one probably cared besides me. This sad fact only reminded me that I would have to work so much harder tomorrow to catch up all by myself.
I did find one e-mail though. It was from my new supposed cyber tutor RC_WRITER. I was partially grateful that someone in the world remembered my sorry existence. Replying to his
e-mail picked me up, just a bit. When I was done, all I had left to do was stare at the faded tawny walls. The earliest he’s probably reply is late tomorrow evening, seeing how it’s a weekday and all. I find myself thinking unexpectedly. I felt a sliver of somber feelings slowly drip down into my core. I wonder what brought that on.
