#illnessfic

“Shit.” Lily slapped her hand on her mouth and looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. Thankfully, customers seemed too busy wrangling their excited children and examining trees to have heard her. 

Aiden flashed a mischievous grin. “You really have to watch your mouth, Ms. Morris.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, kid.” She tucked the pen behind her ear and started walking back to the checkout stand. “And stop calling me Ms. Morris, for god’s sake! I’m only 30!”

“Only when you stop calling me ‘kid’!”

Lily chuckled. When Evergreen Dream Ltd. had contacted her to ask if she would take up the managing position at a lot in Wisconsin, she’d scoffed at the idea. She’d been working at a Seattle lot for five years now, in a location only a few blocks away from her apartment. The thought of spending winter in the cold Midwest, especially without friends or family, was unthinkable. But they’d sweetened the deal with quite a bit of cash, and Lily hadn’t been able to resist. The job was seasonal after all. What was two months out of the entire year?

The first few days had been brutal. The humid cold seeped into her North-Westerned-raised bones like the icy breath of death, and her colleagues had turned out to be a bunch of college kids already friends with each other. Lily had instantly missed her Seattle lot and its many familiar faces.

Thankfully, the crew quickly warmed up to Lily, and now treated her like an aunt. Not that she particularly enjoyed feeling like an aunt, but she’d already grown fond of what she called “the kids,” even though they were less than ten years younger than her. There was something uplifting and inspiring about working with a group of young adults looking forward to the endless sea of possibilities ahead of them.

But the cold. Ugh. Nothing could make her love the weather.

Lily reached the checkout stand, relieved to feel the heating lamp’s glow on her frozen nose. She bent down under the counter and ruffled through a pile of inventory forms looking for the latest one. Her mind raced as she wondered exactly how long she’d been using the wrong sheet, and how many trees they actually had left. She’d need to order a new shipment as soon as possible. The busiest time of the year was already upon them.

“You have a lovely voice,” said a man from the other side of the counter.

Lily stood up, confused. A customer in his late 30s smiled at her. He had the looks of a Hallmark movie star: a nice-looking “guy next door” with a warm smile and a rugged, nonchalant style. His nose looked quite red and chapped, and he wore a thick green knitted scarf around his neck.

He pointed at the old speaker attached to a lamp post behind Lily. The thing was blaring “The Christmas Song” with great difficulty. “I was referring to your singing. You know? ‘Chestnut roasting on an open fire...’” he tried to sing, but his hoarse voice couldn’t carry the tune.

Finally, a light bulb went off in Lily’s brain, easing her furrowed brow into a look of understanding. “I was singing out loud against my will again, wasn’t I?”

The man laughed. “I’m afraid so. But don’t worry, you sounded great. You should really be a singer.”

“I kind of already am, actually,” Lily said with a smile. “This is just my seasonal job. You know, the one that actually pays the bills?”

“Now it all makes sense. But what happened to Mrs… What’s-Her-Name?”

“Oh, apparently she retired. They shipped me here from the West Coast because she waited until the last minute to tell the company, and they couldn’t find anyone to replace her on such short notice.”

“’Company’? You mean to tell me this isn’t owned by a lovely local family and passed down from generation to generation?” the man said with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Oh no, Evergreen Dream Lot #124 is totally a family-owned business built with love and Christmas magic,” Lily shot back with a grin. “I’m Lily Morris, by the way.”

She extended her hand towards the customer, but he shook his head. “I’m just getting over a cold and I wouldn’t want to make your job even harder in this weather,” he apologized. “My name is Ezra Norton. I co-own Honey & Cream, a café downtown. I’m actually here to buy a tree to display in our store.”

Lily’s smile widened. “I’ve actually been to Honey & Cream once! Great cranberry muffins.” She turned to grab a paper cup and filled it with hot chocolate from the insulated dispenser. “I’m sorry you’re feeling under the weather, but hopefully this will keep you warm while you browse. I’ll get Aiden to help you pick a tree.” She handed the cup to Ezra and used her walkie-talkie to page Aiden.

Before entering the maze of evergreens, Ezra turned back to Lily and said, “By the way, I’m glad you’re replacing Mrs. Grinch. I’m pretty sure she took pleasure in sucking the Christmas spirit out of everyone.”

Lily laughed, pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate. “So I’ve heard,” she said, glancing towards Aiden emerging from the trees.

“That’s an unnecessarily nice way to put it, Mr. Norton,” said Aiden, gesturing for Ezra to follow him.

Lily heard Ezra’s faint voice as he disappeared behind a huge fir. “Oh come on Aiden, since when do you call me ‘Mr. Norton’?”

When Ezra came back to pay for his massive 10 feet scotch pine, one of the best in the lot, he and Lily chatted a bit more about the town and the weather. While Ezra looked through his wallet for his credit card, Lily took a sip of hot chocolate, eager to warm up.

As she put down the cup, Ezra gasped. His face paled as he looked at the cup with wide eyes.

“What? What’s wrong?” Lily said, panic rising in her chest.

“I’m afraid this was my cup,” he said, pointing at the hot chocolate.

Sure enough, Lily noticed her own cup waiting for her behind the counter.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! I can give you another one!” she said, scrambling for a new cup.

“No, no, that’s not it! I’m just worried you’ll catch my cold.”

Lily stopped in her track and laughed. “That’s why you made that face? I thought you’d seen a ghost!”

Ezra chuckled. “Well, I’d feel terrible if I passed this on to you,” he said, pointing at his nose.

“I’m the one who hijacked your beverage, so it’s absolutely not your fault! But don’t worry, I’ve got an amazing immune system. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Ezra said, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Guys, look!” interrupted Aiden a few feet from them. He was still wrapping Ezra’s tree in mesh netting, but had stopped midway and was now staring at the night sky. “The first snow! Finally!”

Lily looked up. Sure enough, a few puffy snowflakes floated lazily in the glow of the Christmas lights hanging between the lamp posts. A groaned escaped her lips. She wasn’t ready for snow. But then again, when would she ever be?

*****

The snow didn’t let up for a full 24 hours, forcing Lily and the crew to move all the trees on the show lot about four times during the day so that the snowplow could clear the ground. And of course, snow meant a dramatic uptick in customers, who finally felt in the mood to decorate for the holidays. Nothing quite as magical as picking a noble fir while big cottony snowflakes danced in the air around. But for Lily, it only meant a grueling day of shoveling the stuff whenever she had a free moment. Definitely no magic in that.

She’d also gotten up early that morning to schedule a delivery, and had had to call her bosses to explain her mistake so that they would approve a rush charge from the supplier. Needless to say, they were not happy with her. Lily worried that it would affect her position in Seattle next year. This temp job was the only thing keeping her afloat on her meager singing gigs salary. She occasionally took up other jobs as necessary, but the Christmas tree lot was by far the most lucrative, especially since she’d been promoted to a manager last year.

When it was finally time to close up shop at 10 pm, Lily grabbed her shovel, repressing a sigh. Aiden offered to help, but she refused. “Don’t you have finals soon?”

Aiden shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m majoring in History and I have an excellent memory. My finals are 95% memorization, 5% critical thinking, so…”

“Oh yeah?” Lily huffed as she pushed the shovel through a pile of snow. “Who was the president of the United States in 1943?”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Easy. Roosevelt.”

“OK. When did Canada declare independence?”

“1931.”

Lily stopped shoveling, concentrating on finding another question. “Hmmm…” Her head was pounding, making it even more difficult to think straight. It also didn’t help that she knew very few historical facts. “How long was Al Capone’s prison sentence?”

Aiden’s victorious smile turned into a frown. “Uhh…”

“Ha-AH! See? You obviously need to hit the books. Go!” She used the shovel to shoo him away towards the parking lot.

“Wait, so how long was his prison sentence?” asked Aiden, defeated.

Lily shrugged. “Do you really think I would know that?”

“Did you even know any of the other answers?”

“No.”

Aiden shook his head, laughing. “I’ve been tricked. Fine, I’ll go home and brush up on the Prohibition era. New York in the 1920s is one of the coolest eras anyway.”

Lily resumed shoveling. “I’ll take your word for it. Now go prosper and all that, and get out of my sight.” As she finished her sentence, a tickle bloomed deep within her sinuses, forcing her to drop her shovelful of snow and burry her nose in her scarf.

“Hhh—iih—sheeew!”

“Bless you Mrs. Morris!” said Aiden with a laugh, a reaction Lily was used to by now. No matter how hard she tried to control the sound of her sneezes, she had never been able to suppress what could only be described as a high-pitch voice crack before the release. People either found it adorable or hilarious.

“Good night, Aiden,” Lily said in a stern voice, shooing him away once again with the shovel.

After Aiden’s car turned the corner, silence fell upon the Christmas tree lot. Snow still tumbled out of the sky, but at a slower rate. Lily resumed shoveling, the flat blade occasionally grating against the asphalt underneath, filling the air with a loud rustling. Now that everybody was gone, Lily found the activity quite calming.

When she was finally done, her cheeks red and frozen, her fingers numb, she headed towards the RV rented for her by the company. It definitely lacked the comfort of an hotel room, but she didn’t mind it too much. It allowed her to be around whenever the kids needed her, even on her days off. But it wasn’t exactly the best place to sleep in the middle of winter. She longed for a deep, hot bath instead of the lukewarm dribble her shower provided.

As she unlocked the door, another tickle formed at the back of her nose, freezing her in place. It developed slowly this time, torturing her as she tried to inhale cold air to set it off. Finally, she turned to her side and sneezed openly towards the ground.

“Iih—sheeew!”

The sound echoed in the dead of night, as if mocking her.

*****

“Unfortunately, we don’t have any of those in stock at the moment, but let me show you a few better options.”

Lily bit her bottom lip as she heard Tommy try the new canned response that she’d taught the kids that morning. It was now late afternoon, and she’d heard the line a thousand times, cringing inwardly every time.

“Any news?” asked Aiden as he passed by the checkout counter carrying netting.

Lily shook her head. “Still nothing.”

Two days had passed since Lily had rush-ordered a new shipment of trees. It had been scheduled to be delivered the previous morning, but bad weather had pushed the delivery window to this morning. However, the truck had never shown up, and no one could get a hold of the driver.

In the meantime, business had flourished and the supply was dwindling fast. They barely had enough trees to satisfy the demand for the next four days. But worse than that, they had run out of the most popular types, and some customers were leaving empty-handed and unhappy.

Lily could barely function, checking her phone every two minutes and feeling too frazzled to focus on a task.

“Iih—tsheeeew!”

“Bless you,” shouted Aiden as he kept walking. “You should take something for that.”

“For what?” she shouted back distractedly as Aiden disappeared in the show lot, but he didn’t reply.

Lily tried calling the truck driver for the hundredth time, no longer caring whether or not all the missed calls would make her look like a psycho stalker. When he didn’t pick up, Lily felt the same mix of emotions as all the other times she’d called: worry that something had happened to the driver, and anger because he probably just had had too much to drink the night before and was sleeping off a hangover. There were no other options in Lily’s mind; it had to be one or the other.

“I’m back for more,” said a voice Lily didn’t recognize at first. She lifted her head to see Ezra standing once again in front of the counter, only this time, his nose no longer looked chapped and his voice sounded deep and strong.

Lily tried to rally herself and managed to pull off a natural smile. “Welcome back! Addicted to Christmas trees, I see?”

“Guilty. But this time, I’d like one for my house. So… a little smaller.”

“As long as you don’t want a douglas fir or a blue spruce or a scotch pine, I’m sure we can find something.” Lily regretted her sarcastic words as soon as she heard them coming out of her mouth. This wasn’t very professional, and not at all what she’d taught the boys to say. But she had this odd feeling of familiarity with Ezra, and it had fooled her into being too frank.

“I don’t know what any of this means, but as long as it has branches to hang ornaments on and smells like sap, I’ll take it,” said Ezra, laughing. “Has business been a little too good to you?”

“Well, yes and no. It’s mostly my mistake. I ordered a new shipment too late, so we’re running out of trees. But it’s all good, the truck should be here today. Hopefully. Except the driver disappeared.” She grabbed her walkie-talkie and shoved it in front of her mouth to stop the deluge of honesty from spewing out. “Aiden, could you help Ezra pick a tree please?”

Ezra gave her a sympathetic look. “That sounds awful, I’m sorry. Hopefully he’s just sleeping off a hangover and he’ll show up soon.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” said Lily with a little too much enthusiasm. “It must be that, right? The guy had to stop for the night, went to a local bar and got smashed. That’s all.” She really did not want to think of the alternative.

Ezra nodded. “Must be it!”

“I just can—can’t belie— hhh… Hold—“ Lily’s breath hitched as a tickle nestled itself deep within her nose. She turned to her side and muffled a sneeze in the crook of her puffy coat-covered elbow.

“Iih—sheeew!”

“Bless you!” said Ezra with an endeared smile.

But Lily wasn’t done. She immediately launched forward with another one of her signature sneezes and barely enough time to draw breath.

“Iih—tsheeew!”

“Oh, bless you again!” Ezra’s smile faltered and a frown appeared on his face. “I hope I didn’t get you sick after all?”

Lily sniffed. “No, no, don’t worry. It’s just…” she gestured around her. “I must be allergic to snow.”

“Hey there!” interrupted Aiden, shaking Ezra’s hand. “Did Melinda send you for another tree?”

Lily’s ears perked up at the mention of “Melinda.” Who was Melinda?

“Yeah, she’s been wanting one for a while but we’ve been busy at the café. She says the house is gloomy without it.”

Lily felt a wave of disappointment hit her, which left her puzzled. Of course, Ezra was cute, but she hadn’t been consciously aware that she found him attractive enough to be disappointed that he was taken. She raised an eyebrow. This was definitely a first.

A buzz on her phone reminded her that she had more important things to worry about. Sadly, the text was from a friend back in Seattle, not from the supplier.

Before following Aiden back on the show lot, Ezra turned to Lily once more. “Listen, I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night?”

Lily looked at him with a blank face, confused.

“Oh I… I should explain,” said Ezra, his cheeks flaming red. “We’re having our traditional Christmas Evening at Honey & Cream, and we usually just play some Christmas radio station over the speakers, but I thought it would be nice to have live music.”

Now understanding where this was going, it was Lily’s turn to get red-cheeked.

“We’d love to hire you for the event if you’re available,” continued Ezra. “And if you sing Christmas songs at all.”

“Of course! I know all the classics, and I even have my guitar with me. I’d love to sing for you guys!”

Ezra beamed. “That’s great. Let me pick out a tree and we can discuss the details.”

As she watched Ezra walk towards the trees, Lily couldn’t help but smile. Landing gigs always made her happy, and she hadn’t expected to get any job offers in the middle of Wisconsin. For a blissful moment, she even forgot about her predicament.

Until she heard Tommy in the background: “Unfortunately we don’t have any scotch pines in stock at the moment, but let me show you a few better options.”

Lily resisted the urge to smack her head on the counter, and decided to count that as a victory.

*****

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do, El,” whined Lily as she prepared the cash register for the day, her cellphone tucked between her ear and the faux fur of her hood.

It was the next morning, early enough that none of the college kids on schedule that day had made it to the lot yet. A cold wind rustled through the remaining trees, the sun shining brightly on the blanket of snow. Too brightly for Lily’s eyes, which were oddly sensitive, exacerbating the low-level headache she’d been putting up with for the past two days. Stress always affected her like that.

“So let me get this straight…” said Ella at the other end of the line. She was one of Lily’s dearest friends and a very opinionated woman, which made her the perfect person to call when things went wrong. Lily found it cathartic. “This idiot drove his truck into a ditch, damaged all your trees, didn’t get hurt but took an entire day to remember to call someone?”

“Yep. Apparently he thought he could ‘fix it.’ I guess he was scared to call his boss and admit that he messed up.”

“I bet that sucker was driving too fast. Or drunk.”

“God I hope not,” said Lily, closing the cash drawer with a satisfying clang. “I’m glad no one got hurt, but what am I supposed to do? The supplier is sending another shipment, but it’ll take too long to get here. I’m running out of trees! And that’s the only thing we sell here. I can’t exactly be like, ‘Oh sorry, we don’t have any trees in stock, but can I interest you in a nice roll of mesh netting? Or a flocking machine?’” She stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what if I offered flocking services?”

Ella laughed. “You’re joking.”

“I mean… I’m really desperate here. I’ll flock anything for cash. I can flock a mailbox, I can flock a car, I’d even flock a damn turkey.”

“Lily, this is me virtually shaking you by the shoulders right now. Get a grip, and for the love of all that is holy, stop saying ‘flock.’ It’s way too early for that. You know it’s 7 am here, right?”

“I’m ju—just… Ho—hhh—hold on,” said Lily, fighting against her hitching breath. She barely had time to pull the phone away from her ear before she bent forward with two harsh sneezes. “Iih—tsheeew! Iih—TSHEEEW!”

“Bless. This is the second time you’ve sneezed since you’ve called.”

Lily sniffed wetly. “So?”

“Are you coming down with something?”

“No, Mama Bear, I’m fine. It’s just much colder here than back home. It’s constantly below freezing. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah, I can imagine that it would get you sick pretty easily. Listen, don’t get your tinsel in a bunch about this whole thing. You’ll run yourself ragged, I know you. It’s not your fault if the trees didn’t show up. Just call your bosses and tell them what happened. I’m sure they have a few tricks up their sleeves.”

“I don’t know,” said Lily, sniffing again and briefly pinching her nose. The sneezes hadn’t gotten rid of the tickle. She could still feel a light, feathery tingle in the back of her sinuses. “If I hadn’t made a mistake with the inventory, this would have never happened. I need to fix it on my own, otherwise I might not get my job back in Seattle next year.”

Ella groaned. “You realize you’re doing exactly what that stupid driver did, right?”

Lily shrugged, waving to Tommy has he drove by on his way to the parking area, the beat of rap music vibrating the ground under her feet. “I guess he had the right idea, he just didn’t execute it correctly. Listen, I gotta go, we’re opening soon.”

As Lily lowered her phone to end the call, she heard Ella’s faint voice muttering her disapproval. But that was the thing with strongly opinionated people: One could always ignore their advice and chalk it up to their passionate dispositions.

The tickle suddenly surged like a gust of wind, reducing Lily to a hitching, gasping mess as she fought the sneeze—and lost.

“Hhh—iih—tsheeew!”

*****

Lily spent most of the day on the phone, calling every tree farms in the area to secure a new shipment. But because she was so late in the season and couldn’t promise a long-term deal, no one was willing to quote her a reasonable price.

Time was running out, and so was Lily’s hope to resolve the matter by herself. She slumped on the stool near the cash register, sighing heavily.

“Still nothing?” asked Aiden, his eyes fixed on his phone.

“Nothing good at least. Bunch of Scrooges. No one is willing to give me a good price.”

Aiden scoffed. “Maybe from their perspective, you’re the Scrooge. Making them work so close to Christmas for mere pennies. I’m sure they have a family to feed and kids to take care of.”

“You’re the worst devil’s advocate ever,” said Lily, shaking her head. The motion woke up her nagging headache, making her wince.

“No one likes to hear the truth,” said Aiden, shrugging.

Lily rolled her eyes and went back to looking for more farms to call, widening her search area even more. The idea of explaining her situation to yet another farmer and begging for help made her feel completely exhausted. Plus, her throat had begun to hurt from talking all day; not a good thing considering she was scheduled to sing later that night.

Her mind drifted off to Seattle and her cozy apartment. She missed going out for a beer after work with Ella. By this time, their group of friends would no doubt be organizing Christmas gatherings and activities, and Lily was missing out on all of them. Is the extra money really worth all of this? she wondered.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a fierce tickle deep within her sinuses. She scrunched up her nose and sniffled wetly, which did nothing to abate the tickle. It kept on expanding, forcing her to shut her eyes and tilt her head back. She waved a gloved hand in front of her face, her breath hitching for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she launched forward with a harsh sneeze.

“Iih—TSHEEEEW!”

“You’ve been doing a lot of that today,” said Aiden absentmindedly, still occupied by god-knew-what on his phone.

“Doing what?” said Lily as a shiver wracked her body. Damn this cold weather, she thought, and glanced at the heating lamp, wondering if it had a higher setting.

“Sneezing.”

Lily laughed. “Have you been counting my sneezes?”

“Not really, but I should have.” He gestured towards the almost empty lot. “It’s not like I’ve been really busy today.”

“Yeah w—well… hhh… May—Maybe you… Iih—sheeeew!”

“That’s two. I’m starting right now,” said Aiden with a smirk.

“You know, Aiden, if we don’t have trees to sell, that means I have to cut your hours, which means no salary for you.” Lily sniffed, waiting for the full effect of what she’d said to erase the smirk on Aiden’s face. When it did, she smiled sweetly and said, “So how about you use all your free paid time to help me locate a tree farm instead?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it!”

“Iihh—TSHEEEEW!” Lily quickly lifted her head after the third sneeze, shooting a warning glance towards Aiden. “I swear to god, if you—“

“Shhh! I’m busy looking for trees online,” said Aiden, repressing a laugh.

*****

An hour before she was due to sing at the Honey & Cream, Lily stood in front of the cold medicine aisle of a grocery store.

It had taken her that long to realize that all of her symptoms were indicative of a burgeoning cold. The headache, the shivers, the sore throat… and the sneezes. But it was only when her nose had started to run that the veil of denial had fallen. And here she was now, holding a crumpled tissue to her nose while looking for the perfect syrup that would allow her to survive the night.

She didn’t want to cancel; the singing gig was the only good thing happening to her at the moment. Even though she felt under the weather, she knew singing would bring back some much-needed happiness into her heart. She could do it, too. She’d sung with worse than a cold before and knew all the tricks to avoid damaging her vocal cords. But medicine always helped.

She grabbed a bottle of generic cold medicine and headed for the tea aisle for some throat coat, when a familiar voice called her name behind her.

It was Ezra.

Lily instinctively hid the cold medicine behind her back when she turned around, not wanting him to know she was sick. Partly because he’d given her this cold and she didn’t want him to feel bad, but mostly because she was worried he’d cancel the show tonight.

She cleared her throat and hoped for the best. “Hey Ezra! Fancy seeing you here!”

Ezra chuckled, pushing a cart full of a variety of drinks towards her. “We severely underestimated the number of people coming this year, and we’re already running out of drinks.”

“Keep them happy; it makes my job easier!” said Lily, aware of how awkward and overly joyous she sounded. That was the only way she knew to compensate for her lack of energy.

They both stood in silence for a few seconds too long, not knowing what to say. An old Nat King Cole Christmas song played in the background above the hum of the refrigerated displays next to them. Lily wondered just how sickly and pale she looked in the sad, yellowish light of the grocery store, standing right next to a wall of raw meat. Lovely. She tried to think of a way to end the conversation and extricate herself from this situation, but her mind was blank.

And of course, that’s when her nose decided to start tickling.

“Everyone is very excited to hear you sing,” said Ezra, breaking the silence. Unlike Lily, he sounded completely comfortable and relaxed. “I’ve already gotten a few requests.”

Water rose in Lily’s eyes as the tickle grew more intense. “I can’t wait!” she squeaked, trying to control her breathing.

“Oh, do you need a lift to the coffee shop? I’m ready to checkout, so if you want to, you could come with me right now and have a drink before the show. We’ll have plenty of options,” he added, pointing at his cart.

Unable to think straight because of the itch, Lily nodded vigorously, which only made matters worse. “That’d b—be great… Hhh….” She gestured towards the exit in a ‘lead the way’ motion.

Ezra nodded and turned the cart around. As soon as he had his back to her, Lily ducked to the side and stifled a quick double in the crook of her elbow.

“Hhh—Iih—chxshh! Iih—chxxshh!”

Ezra turned around. “What was that?”

Lily stood up straight and stopped moving, as if caught red handed. “What was what?”

Ezra’s eyes scanned the area around Lily. “I heard a weird noise. I thought you’d drop something.” He smiled and turned back around, resuming his walk to the checkout line.

Lily exhaled and sniffed, quickly swiping her used tissue under her nose before hiding it back in her pocket. When she was sure Ezra wouldn’t turn around again, she shoved the box of cold medicine on a shelf, knowing there would be no way to purchase it without Ezra seeing it. She shot the box a longing look as she walked away, promising herself that she’d be back for it the next day.

As they were pulling out of the grocery store’s parking lot, Lily regained enough brain power to remember her guitar. “Crap, do you mind stopping by the RV? I’ll need my guitar.”

“No problem. It’s only a few blocks away anyway.” He put on the heat at full blast, glancing at a shivering Lily. “Who’s in charge of the lot while you’re out?”

“One of the kids,” said Lily, warming her hands over the vent. “They should be fine though… Not many trees to be in charge of at the moment anyway.”

“Are you still waiting for that lost shipment?”

Lily sighed. “That shipment is lost forever. I’m waiting for a replacement. I’d love to find a local supplier to get a small shipment until then but…” She shrugged and shook her head. “I won’t bore you with the details. I’ll figure something out.”

As soon as she moved her hands away from the vent, a blast of hot air blew in her face, which felt nice on her frozen nose, but also triggered another annoying tickle. Lily quickly adjusted the vent away from her face and pinched her nostrils to squash the impending sneeze.

“I’m sure you’ll—“ Ezra glanced at her and stopped mid-sentence, amused. “You OK there?”

Lily lowered her hand and nodded, then quickly shook her head no as her mouth slacked open and her eyelids fluttered. “Go—Gonna sn… sneeze—Iihh… Iih—tsheeew!”

“Bless you! If you need tissues, there’s a packet in the glove compartment.”

“Thanks,” said Lily, fetching the packet and plucking a tissue out. She dabbed at her nose gingerly, not wanting to blow and make a disgusting sound that would give her away.

Ezra glanced once again at her. “Are you feeling alright?”

She smiled. “Yep! It’s the snow…”

“Ah yes. Allergic to snow, right?” said Ezra with a chuckle. He turned into the Evergreen Dream’s lot and stopped in front of Lily’s RV. “Here you are!”

*****

As Ezra and Lily walked to the back door of Honey & Cream, their hands full with bags of clinking glass bottles, muffled sounds of laughter, conversation and Christmas music saturated the night air. Butterflies rose in Lily’s stomach, anticipating the moment she’d be on stage in front of this cheery crowd. She couldn’t help but smile.

“After you,” said Ezra, holding the door with his elbow and moving his bags out of the way.

Lily walked into a dark and narrow hallway, a wave of comforting heat enveloping her. At the other end of the corridor, she could see people chatting, and the orange glow of a fireplace. Images of Christmas when she was a child instantly filled her head. Her grandpa’s living room with the giant brick fireplace. The entire extended family gathered in one room, laughing and talking animatedly. Tables filled with food and desserts. Comfort, warmth and happiness.

“Sounds like quite the crowd in there,” said Lily as she neared the end of the hallway.

“Yep,” said Ezra proudly. “The party gets bigger every year.”

When Lily reached the main room, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She remembered the café being quite spacious and cozy when she’d visited a few weeks ago, but it had been completely transformed from a modern, minimalist space to a Christmas wonderland. A fire roared in the huge stone hearth on the right side of the room. Pine garlands scalloped the entire length of the walls, peppered with holly and ornaments. A huge chandelier made of thousands of dangling crystals in the shape of snowflakes glittered in the dimmed lights.

A few hundred people had gathered at the Honey & Cream in their best attire, with people sitting at the decorated tables or standing in small groups, crowded together for a lack of space. The chorus of voices sounded cheerful and relaxed, which immediately put Lily at ease. She noted a small area in the left corner of the room with a stool and a mic, and behind it, a huge Christmas tree beautifully decorated—the 10 feet scotch pine she’d sold Ezra a few days ago. This would be her spot for the night, and Lily couldn’t have been happier.

Ezra guided her towards a double swivel door behind the counter. “Can you drop off the bottles in the kitchen? I’ll go grab your guitar real quick.” He set down his own bags near the door and darted back towards the hallway.

When Lily pushed the double doors, the smell of glazed ham, pepper gravy and green bean casserole welcomed her despite her congestion. The small professional kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes and flour, forcing Lily to stack a few mixing bowls to make room for the alcohol she was carrying.

Behind her, the double door swung again, and Lily turned around to come face to face with a tall blonde carrying a tray of empty mugs.

“Oh!” the woman said, a warm smile illuminating her face. “You must be Lily! I’m Melinda. I’d shake your hand but…” she nodded towards her tray and swept passed Lily. “Sorry it’s such a mess in here. I hope my brother told you it’s not always like this. Please don’t call the health inspector on us!”

“Brother…? Oh, Ezra? You’re Ezra’s sister?”

Melinda stopped in front of the sink and started unloading the mugs. “Yep! Sister, roommate, co-owner… All of those things. And we’re not even twins.” Once done, she swiveled and started grabbing clean mugs from a shelf and placing them on her tray. “When he told me he’d found someone to sing at our Christmas party, I was ecstatic. Live music is really the only thing that was missing, but we hadn’t realized it. Do you know ‘Christmas Time’s a-Comin’ by Emmylou Harris? It’s not a well-known song but my mom loved it and played it on a loop every Christmas at home. I’ve always wanted to hear it live. If you don’t know it, it’s fine too!” She hurried around the counter and placed the tray on a stack of clean plates, then started filling the mugs with hot chocolate from a thermos dispenser. “Oh shoot, we’re running out.”

Lily watched her flutter around the kitchen, unable to place a word as Melinda chatted animatedly, seemingly more to herself than to Lily. Lily tried to keep up, but her mind still clung to the fact that Melinda was Ezra’s sister, not lover. It felt like such a silly trope that only happened in romcoms, and yet it had just happened to her.

“… and he said you had the voice of an angel. That’s a huge compliment coming from Ezra. He doesn’t like any of the singers on the radio these days. I keep telling him he’s just too old to get it.”

Lily turned her attention back to Melinda just in time to hear the compliment, and her heart swelled. She blushed and sniffled, feeling her nose running a little. Unfortunately, as it often happened to her when she had a cold, sniffling sparked a torturous tickle that nothing could stop. She scrunched up her nose and tried to pinch her nostrils shut anyway, but when her breath started hitching, she knew there was no way out.

“…seem to be having fun, but you never know for sure. What do you think?”

Suddenly, Melinda stopped filling the mugs on her tray and looked at Lily expectantly.

“I… Hhh… I uh… Ehh…” Not only did Lily not know what the question was, but she was also fighting off the sneeze with all her might, embarrassed at the fact that Melinda was just staring at her.

“Are you alright?” said Melinda with a frown.

Lily lifted her index finger and quickly swiveled towards the door, her head tilting back as she took in a big breath. She covered her nose and mouth in her scarf and launched forward with two itchy, irritated sneezes.

“Iihh—tsheeeew!... Hhh—Iiih—tsheeeew!”

“Bless you, my dear!” said Melinda with a chuckle before busying herself piling mini marshmallows and crushed candy canes in each mug. “Boy do I wish I had a cute sneeze like that. Mine sounds like a tornado warning, and then comes the tornado, if you know what I mean. Yours is like a kitten sneeze. It’s so cute.”

And just like that, Melinda was back to a whirlwind of chatter, hurrying around the kitchen to prepare the drinks. Behind Lily, the double doors swung, revealing Ezra, guitar case in hand.

“Ezra!” said Melinda, briefly looking towards her brother before focusing back on her task. “We were just talking about you!”

Ezra chuckled. “I bet you were doing most of the talking, as always.” He turned to Lily and handed her the guitar. “Can I get you something to drink before the show?”

Lily hesitated. Her throat felt a bit raw and she could really use a coat throat, but didn’t want to admit being sick. She wanted to ask for chamomile tea with a lot of honey, but that seemed like a dead giveaway.

“A glass of water would be great.” She clenched her teeth as soon as she heard her own voice. Heavy congestion had settled after the sneezes, and she really needed to blow her nose. “Also, is there anywhere I could go to warm up my voice?” And blow my nose in peace, she thought.

“Yeah sure! You can use my office.” Ezra headed back out of the kitchen. “Follow me.”

*****

Lily spent half an hour doing vocal warmups while walking around Ezra’s office. In-between “hums” and “aahs,” she admired the cleanliness of the room. She hadn’t pegged Ezra as being so orderly. Everything had its place, from the piles of papers neatly arranged in stacked trays to the three pens of different colors aligned next to a notebook.

Lily scrunched up her nose and sniffled, annoyed at the returning tickle. The inside of her nose permanently felt on fire. She grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and folded it over her nose. Her eyes closed as the tickle etched deeper and deeper into her sinuses, sending a little shiver down her back. Her head shook lightly as she drew a breath and sneezed into the tissue.

“Hhh—iihh—sheeeew! Ugh…”

She knew the squeak wasn’t good for her voice, but she couldn’t help it. At least she didn’t feel too sick. Sure, her head was heavy and achy, her throat was irritated and her sinuses were on fire, but she didn’t feel feverish or exhausted. Not only that, but after warming up her voice, Lily felt confident that she could pull off her set. She sang a little deeper than normal, but didn’t crack at all. If she played this right, nobody would notice anything.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in!”

Ezra’s head peeked in from a crack in the door. “Are you ready to go? I think the Christmas cheer has reached maximum capacity out there.”

Lily smiled. The butterflies hummed with excitement in her stomach. “Let’s give them something to cheer about.”

*****

“Alright everyone,” said Ezra in the mic, tapping it a few times to test it. “This year, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful singer with a beautiful voice who agreed to perform Christmas songs for us tonight. So please be nice to her, and maybe she’ll come back next year.”

Lily smiled when Ezra looked towards her with pleading eyes. She quieted the voice in her head whispering that she’d be back in Seattle next year, maybe without a job. Stay in the moment, she told herself. You’re about to go sing. Her heart pounded with nerves, but her smile grew bigger.

“Put your hands together for Lily Morris!”

Lily walked to the stool and sat down, adjusting her guitar strap. When the clapping died down, she leaned towards the mic. “Hey everyone, I’m the one who sold most of you a Christmas tree this year,” she said, then pointed over her shoulder. “Including this monster right there.” The crowd laughed, and Lily felt her nerves melt away, leaving only excitement. “How about we sing some Christmas songs?”

She started with “Chestnut Roasting on an Open Fire,” one of her favorites. As she strung the first notes on her guitar, she remembered that this was the song she accidentally sang when she met Ezra for the first time. She glanced at him and saw that he was grinning from ear to ear, as if he was remembering the same thing.

A split second before she was meant to start singing, worry bubbled in her chest. She couldn’t help but fear that her voice wouldn’t cooperate. Thankfully, the words came out effortlessly, smooth and clear. A smile grew on her lips as she relaxed into the song.

Lily lost herself in the music during the first half hour, going from jazzy classics to upbeat carols. The crowd was so into it, clapping and singing along, that Lily forgot all about her cold and overdid it a little bit. She belted out “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” doing her usual runs. When she finished the song, people cheered and applauded while she took a big gulp of water, feeling the wrath of her irritated throat flaring up.

“Alright folks, how about a slow one?” she said, her voice sounding a little rough. “Anyone here knows ‘Where Are You Christmas’?” People cheered and nodded.

Lily took another sip of water. “Not that we need to ask ourselves where Christmas is, because it’s obviously here. All of it,” she said, making people laugh again. Lily giggled, but it turned into a small cough. She leaned away from the mic and cleared her throat, catching Ezra’s worried gaze on her. She smiled reassuringly at him.

Lily starting singing, closing her eyes. She always loved doing “Where Are You Christmas.” It was such a beautiful song with a powerful build. Sure, it wasn’t the most cheerful, but it resonated with Lily. After moving to Seattle, away from her family, Christmas hadn’t been the same. Her family had stopped organizing huge gatherings because of a petty fight between her aunts and uncles, and Lily had eventually stopped going home for Christmas altogether because of her new job at Evergreen Dream. Her parents understood that she had to make ends meet, but it still felt bittersweet every year to be spending the holidays selling Christmas trees to happy families, while she had no family of her own to celebrate with on December 24th.

“Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you, why have you gone away,” Lily sang, looking at the crowd in front of her. Some people were putting their heads on their neighbor’s shoulders, or holding hands. They all looked like a big, giant family, and Lily still had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that this city had such a tight-knit community. It was incredibly touching.

Lily concentrated on the vibration of her guitar against her body, trying not to choke up. Emotion rose in her chest and fizzed in her nose as she tried not to cry. But something worse than tears happened: The tickle returned.

At first, she kept singing, hoping adrenaline would take care of it. But it didn’t. The tickle grew to a persistent prickling sensation buzzing slowly down her nostrils. In between verses, she tried to wiggle her nose, which didn’t do any good.

“Where are y—you Christ—hh…mas, do you… hhh...—member, the one you used— tohhh…”

Her lips parted, her eyes closed. She kept strumming, but could no longer sing. She fought her hitching breath once, twice, until it was too much. She turned her head in time, but the mic still picked up her sneezes perfectly, down to the little gasp.

“Iihh—tsheeew! Hhh—ihh—tsheeeew!”

A chorus of bless you and giggles burst from the audience. Lily couldn’t help but laugh, too. “I’m so sorry guys,” she said, her face hot with embarrassment. “I tried so hard, but I couldn’t fight these off.” She kept on strumming the same notes in a loop, trying to recover from the situation. “Although I must say, I’ve never been blessed by so many people at once. I feel really… well… blessed actually.” The crowd erupted in laughter again.

Lily managed to finish the song and play a few more, but she could feel her voice weakening. It even cracked during a folksy version of “Jingle Bells,” but thankfully no one heard it because the crowd was singing louder than her.

She ended with a very simple rendition of “Silent Night,” and was surprised to discover that it sounded better with her raspy, lower voice. As soon as she finished the last note, the crowd whistled and applauded for a full minute, leaving Lily speechless and incredibly touched. She had never sung for such an enthusiastic crowd before. Most of her gigs involved small gatherings, or bars where customers still chatted loudly with each other as if she didn’t exist.

A few people even came up to welcome her to the city and tell her how much they loved her voice. Ezra waited for everyone to disperse before he walked up to her.

“You were wonderful,” he said with such honesty and admiration that Lily felt her insides melt.

“I had a blast!” Her voice sounded deeper and rough around the edge. She cleared her throat. “You’ve got such an amazing group here. I can’t believe how many people turned up.”

“This town is crazy about Christmas,” Ezra said, turning around to gaze upon the mingling crowd like a proud father. “There are tons of other activities organized in town and in neighboring cities. Next week, the old drive-in is even going to reopen for a Christmas movie marathon. Everyone will build their own bonfire and cuddle up with blankets and hot cocoa. Should be fun.” He looked at her sideways. “You should join us.”

Lily smiled. Was that an invitation? “I’d love to.”

But her smiled faltered as a tickle came out of nowhere. She barely had time to muffle the sneezes in her elbow, her head bobbing down with each release.

“Hhh—iihh—sheeew! Iiih—sheeew!”

“Bless you,” said Ezra, his tone more serious. He paused for a moment, surveying her. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Lily sniffled and nodded with a smile. “Yeah. Just tired. I’m still trying to figure out my little ‘problem’ at work and—“

Ezra snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just thought of a cure for world hunger. “OH! That reminds me! I think I can help you with your Christmas tree problem.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I haven’t worked it out fully yet but—“

“Ezra?” called out Melinda from the counter, her panicked voice rising above the chatter. “Little help please?”

Poor Melinda was struggling to serve drinks and desserts to the crowd that had formed around the counter, ready for something sweet after the show. Lily could understand their excitement. If the dessert was as tasty as the cranberry muffin she’d had last time, she’d be dying to get a piece of it herself.

“Shoot,” said Ezra, already moving towards Melinda. “Listen, are you free tomorrow morning? I can come by and tell you all about it then.”

Lily nodded. “Sure, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Thanks again for the show,” Ezra said, his smile warming up the room. “Have a hot chocolate and enjoy yourself.”

Lily smiled back. A hot chocolate sounds heavenly right about now, she thought, shivering in spite of the ambient heat. And with any luck, this cold will be gone after a good night’s rest.

*****

The night brought anything but good rest to Lily. She spent it tossing and turning on her cheap mattress, shivering under the blankets and sneezing her poor little nose off. By the morning, her bed was littered with used tissues, and she’d only managed to doze off a few hours, at best.

She stood outside in the light of dawn, coffee mug in hand, surveying what was left of the Christmas tree lot. Steam from her coffee rose in the chilly air, mixing with the mist of her breath. She sniffled wetly, bringing a crumpled tissue to her nose. Her nostrils were chapped beyond repair, and she knew nothing could be done to make herself look presentable before Ezra’s arrival.

She walked between the few trees still available on the show lot, her boots crunching in the snow. Worry wrapped around her chest like a corset bound too tightly. If Ezra’s solution didn’t work out, she’d have to call the bosses and admit her fault. Not only had she messed up in the first place, but now she’d lost a good two days of sales trying to fix it by herself. She’d made it worse.

No wonder this lot is so important to them, Lily thought. It had been incredibly popular since the start of the season for such a small city. After talking with Ezra the night before, Lily understood why. Evergreen Dream had found the perfect gem: A series of small towns and cities with deep-rooted Christmas traditions, and no other Christmas tree lots to compete. The stakes were higher than she had thought.

Lily shivered in the relentless cold, and scrunched up her nose as a tickle formed. She fished for her tissue in her coat pocket, covering her nose just in time.

“Hhh—iihh—sheeeew! Ugh… Iihh—sheeew! Iiih—TSHEEEW!”

Behind her, she heard a car make its way into the lot, most likely Ezra’s. She turned around, still clutching the tissue to her nose with one hand, and holding her coffee in the other. A black truck with a trailer attached slowed down near the entrance. It wasn’t Ezra’s Toyota, but the windows were so frosted that Lily couldn’t tell who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

The door opened and Ezra came out. Lily’s heart flipped at the sight of him. She watched him walked to her RV, not knowing that she stood ten feet away on the show lot.

“I’m right here,” she called, except her voice didn’t cooperate. What came out was a pitiful squeak, only hitting a few syllables in full voice, the rest lost in a whisper. She put her hand to her throat, surprised. Had she lost her voice?

Thankfully, it had been enough to catch Ezra’s attention. “Hey,” he called out as he headed towards her. “I was afraid you’d still be sleeping.”

“Your text said 6 am,” she squeaked, her raspy voice still not able to form full words.

Ezra walked up to her with a pained expression. “Oof, you really don’t sound good.” His eyes scanned her face, stopping at her bright-red nose. “I got you sick, didn’t I?” he said softly, his tone full of guilt.

“I think this weather is what did me in,” Lily said, pointing at the gray skies above threatening to unleash a fresh coat of snow. “I’m alright though.”

Ezra looked at her, unconvinced. “You sure you’re up for this? I can come back tomorrow and let you rest.”

Lily shook her head. “If you’ve got a solution, we need to do it now.” She looked at the trees around her. “We’re losing money becau—because of… hhh…”

Lily felt the sneezes coming, hard and fast, the tingle catching fire in her irritated sinuses. But she couldn’t locate her tissue. She put her coffee mug on a crate nearby to free her hands, then checked her coat pockets, her jeans pockets… to no avail. Understanding what was happening, Ezra dug into his own pockets, and came up with a travel packet of tissues, managing to get one out and handing it to Lily just in time.

“Iiih—tsheeew! Hhh—iihh—tsheeeew!”

“Bless you,” Ezra said, his voice warm and soft. “At least let’s get you into the warmth of my truck. I had the heat on full blast. It should still be toasty in there.” He guided her to the passenger side and opened the door for her, closing it behind her.

Lily welcomed the heat with relief, blowing her nose while Ezra circled the truck to get to the driver seat.

“There, this should be better,” he said as he sat down and started the truck, reviving the heating vents. Forced air rushed out with a loud wooshing sound. Ezra turned the heat down to quiet them. “I had a hunch you were under the weather yesterday, but I didn’t dare to ask,” he said, sheepish. “It was a bit selfish of me. I really wanted to hear you sing.”

Lily smiled. “Don’t feel bad. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d cancel the gig.” She grimaced at the sound of her voice. “I sound worse than I feel. And it was totally worth it.”

Ezra nodded. “Alright then, let’s go get you some trees. That’s at least one problem I can fix.”

He put the truck into gear and started turning around in the parking lot, but Lily put her hand on his arm. “Wait, you haven’t told me how we’re going to get the trees yet!”

“Oh, you’re right!” Ezra laughed. “Sorry, my mind has been all over the place these past few days.” He stopped the car. “I’ve got a friend whose cousin owns a tree farm about two hours from here. I explained the situation and he got his cousin to give you a good deal on the trees. At least I hope it’s a good deal,” he said, suddenly unsure. “I’m not exactly in the tree-buying business, but my friend assured me it was a wholesale price.”

Lily beamed. “At this point, I’m willing to pay more if it means getting trees on the lot. How many can we fit in your truck?”

“I brought lots of rope so I’m hoping we can stack them fairly high. Maybe 40 of them with the trailer?”

Lily calculated in her head, her mouth forming the numbers silently. “I think that would be perfect. It should tide us over to the scheduled delivery, and maybe recoup some of the losses.”

Although her voice still sounded hoarse and raspy, it was gaining strength as she used it more, waking up her vocal cords from the difficult night she’d had.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Ezra,” Lily said, putting her hand on his arm once again. “Not only did you get me a singing gig, but now this? You must be a Christmas angel or something.”

Ezra laughed. “It’s the least I could do for passing on that awful cold to you.”

“Hey, I’m the one who stole your hot chocolate, remember?”

“Fair enough,” said Ezra, easing off the brake pedal and maneuvering the truck around. “But I’m still partly responsible and—“

“Hhh—iihh—sheeeew!”

“—bless you—and nobody should be without a tree on Christmas anyway.”

“Ihh—sheeeew!”

Ezra glanced at her sympathetically. “Bless you again.”

Lily dabbed at her nose. “You’re going to run out of ‘bless you’s at this rate.”

“I’m sure we can find a supplier for more of those, too.”

*****

They drove for about half an hour, making light conversation at first. As the warmth of the car settled, easing Lily’s shivering, the conversation took on a more warm, familiar tone.

 “I really like this city,” Lily said with a longing sigh.

Ezra glanced at her. “Oh yeah? You don’t hear that often from West Coast people.” He chuckled. “But I can’t imagine a Christmas without snow.”

“I grew up in a small country town, although it rarely snowed there. I just miss the community. The fresh air. I miss knowing your neighbors and stopping by for a visit.” She looked outside at the snow-covered fields, her eyes following the few lonely trees in the distance as the car rushed passed. “And I guess snow does look really nice.”

“And now that we know you’re not allergic to it…”

Lily laughed and playfully pushed him on the shoulder. “I rarely get sick, so there’s still a case to be made about the snow and the weather doing… this to me.” She motioned towards her throat and sinuses, grimacing. “Seattle is fine. We do get a bit of snow every year but it doesn’t last and it’s just chaotic. Some streets in my neighborhood are steep, which is a total nightmare when it gets icy.”

“I’ve actually never been to Seattle before,” said Ezra. “Or much of anywhere to be honest.”

Lily looked at him in surprise. “Were you born here?”

“Yep! Born and raised… and anchored, apparently.” He fiddled with the heating knob, increasing it a little. “My parents bought the Honey & Cream when they were in their 20s. That wasn’t its original name though. They called it ‘Expresso.’ It drove Melinda crazy. She’s a coffee nerd.”

Lily could easily imagine Melinda ranting about the term “Expresso” to no one in particular, averaging 30 words per second without losing her breath. She made a mental note to ask Melinda about it next time she visited the coffee shop.

“So how did you both become the owners?”

“My parents retired early. My dad’s heart wasn’t doing so great. I don’t think he was cut out to be a business owner. Now they live in Florida, his heart is doing much better, and my sister and I are co-owners. The first thing we did is change the name, of course.”

“I really like ‘Honey & Cream,’” mused Lily, scrunching up her nose. “It’s modern, but also soft and soothing in a way.” She picked up a tissue from the travel packet Ezra had given her, feeling another sneeze coming on.

“It was Melinda’s idea. She’s the baker and coffee addict. I take care of the business side of it. That’s what I studied in college, knowing my parents were thinking of selling the coffee shop. I didn’t want it to leave the family, and I’m—“

Ezra stopped talking when he heard a little gasp coming from Lily, warning him of an impending sneeze. He glanced at her with a sad smile. “That tickle won’t leave you alone, huh?”

Lily shook her head, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted, struggling with a torturous buildup. She wiggled her nose again, which seemed to do the trick. Her head titled back, and she bent forward under the force of the sneeze, burying her nose in the tissue.

“Hhhh—ihhh—TSHEEEEW!” She remained bent over her lap, the tissue still secured around her nose and mouth, knowing another sneeze was coming. “Hhhh—iiihh—tsheeeew!”

“Bless you!” said Ezra, surprised at the force of the sneezes. He slowed down the truck, turning into a gas station. “I think we need some supplies. Let me get you something warm for your throat. Any preference?”

Lily dabbed at her chapped nose and sniffled. “Coffee.”

Ezra raised his eyebrows. “Not to go all ‘doctor’ on you, but wouldn’t tea be better in your condition?”

“You’re right,” said Lily, relenting. “Throat coat would be great, but if they don’t have it, chamomile with honey should work.”

“Throat coat…,” he repeated, committing it to memory. “I’m on it!”

He opened the door and got out as quickly as possible to avoid letting too much cold air in, but a burst of icy wind still made its way to Lily. She shivered and readjusted her scarf around her neck, fluffing it up. Reaching for her purse, she checked her phone to see if Aiden was doing alright back at the lot. She’d left him in charge again while she was gone.

Lily: Everything OK over there?

Aiden: Yep. I’m telling people to come back this afternoon. They don’t seem too mad.

Lily: Good. Thank you!

Aiden: How’s it going with Ezra?

Lily: What do you mean?

Aiden: I mean you’re spending half a day on a road trip with the hottest bachelor in town, surely you won’t waste this opportunity?

Lily: Aiden!! Seriously?!

Aiden: Sorry Ms. Morris :P

Lily repressed a laugh. Maybe her growing attraction to Ezra had been apparent to everyone but herself. But this was a professional work trip, and she was in no condition to put on the charm anyway. She would be lucky if Ezra ever thought she looked attractive after seeing her like this.

She put down her phone, realizing that she was alone and could finally blow her nose properly. She had been dabbing at it, too embarrassed to blow in front of Ezra. The process took multiple tissues, but it relieved a lot of pressure in Lily’s sinuses, easing her headache. She managed to take a couple of breath through her nose before another tickle took hold.

She reached for the packet of tissues, but realized she’d used the last one. As Lily battled the oncoming sneeze, Ezra came back, sending another rush of cold air into the car and flaming the tickle in Lily’s nose.

“I got you a—oh!” Ezra noticed the empty packet and Lily pinching her nose, her breath hitching. He put down the two cups of hot liquid in the cup holders and rummaged in the plastic bag, but Lily could no longer hold the sneeze in. She covered her nose with her scarf.

“Ihh—tsheeeew!”

Ezra fished out a box of tissues from the bag and ripped it open, passing Lily a bunch of them. She took them gratefully, her eyes still shut as the tickle triggered another sneeze. She buried her nose in the thick, soft fabric.

“Hhh—ihh—tsheeew! Iihh—tsheeew!”

“Bless you!” Ezra said, moving the bag out of his seat so that he could sit down and close the door. “Poor thing, you sound so sick. Hopefully this will help.” He took out a box of cold medicine and a box of throat coat tea. “I got you a cup of hot water for the tea. The lady at the counter looked at me weird when I asked for ‘throat coat.’ I think she thought it was some kind of sex thing.”

Lily burst out laughing, her nose still buried in the tissues. Ezra joined in.

“I’m just glad I found it so I could show her what it is,” he said, picking up the box to read the text on it. “What even is this? What’s in it?”

“Slippery elm,” said Lily, sniffling wetly and removing the lid from the cup of hot water. “It coats your throat and makes it feel less raw and tickly. Too bad they don’t make it for your nose, too,” she mumbled.

Ezra fetched a tea bag from the box and sniffed it. Grimacing, he gave it to Lily. “What does it taste like?”

Lily dumped it in her cup. “Mostly like a sweeter, more subtle version of licorice. It’s not bad if you don’t hate licorice.”

“Oh, I hate licorice,” said Ezra. “Thankfully I’ve got the perfect chaser right here.” He produced two packets of tree-shaped Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from the bag.

Lily beamed. “I loooove Reese’s! Especially the trees—“

“Because they have more peanut butter, right?” said Ezra, grinning.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“I always stock up after Christmas and Easter. They’re the best.” He opened one packet and took a bite of the chocolate tree. “I’m sure your tea won’t taste as bad if you eat one of these with it.”

Lily laughed. “It’s OK, I’m used to it. I always drink it when my throat is irritated before a show. It’s a singer’s best tool.”

Ezra was pensive for a moment. “You were really wonderful yesterday. I can’t believe you sang like that with a cold.”

“To be fair, I didn’t feel as bad as I do today. I could not sing with this voice,” she said, pointing at her throat.

“You definitely need some rest today.”

They sat in the car in silence for a few minutes, Ezra sipping coffee and eating Reese’s, Lily drinking her tea. Ezra stole a glance at her. “Did you always want to be a singer?”

Lily shook her head, blowing on her tea. “No, I actually wanted to be a hockey player.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I played from when I was five years old all through high school. I quit when I went to college to study music.”

“Do you still skate sometimes?” Ezra put down his coffee and started up the car, turning on the heat.

“I haven’t been in a few years, but I do miss it.”

“Me and my buddies play on a frozen pond in the park during winter. You should come sometimes.”

Lily smiled, feeling the butterflies waking up. “I’d love to.”

Ezra put the truck in reverse, turning his body around to see where he was going. “I’m a pretty good goalie though, so don’t get your hopes up. No puck gets through me.” He glanced at her with a mischievous grin.

“We’ll see,” she said, returning the grin.

*****

Lily soon fell asleep, unable to keep her eyes open in the warmth of the car and the lull of the tires on the snow-covered streets. Ezra woke her up gently once they reached their destination.

“Sorry,” he said after whispering her name and tapping her on the shoulder. “I would let you sleep but you have to sign and pay.”

Lily fought to stay awake, rubbing her eyes and stretching. “No, no, it’s perfect.” Her voice had gone back to a pitiful squeak, which earned a frown from Ezra. “I’m sorry, I’m the worst road trip buddy in the world.”

Ezra laughed. “It’s alright. You needed it.”

Lily met with the owner of the tree farm and agreed to the wholesale price. It was more than Evergreen Dream usually paid, but much lower than the quotes Lily had been getting on the phone. Once she saw the stack of trees ready to go near a warehouse in the back, she felt instant relief. This was really happening! Her problem had been solved, thanks to Ezra.

She looked on as Ezra and two employees discussed how they would load the trees on his truck and trailer. Now that she no longer had to worry about work, she couldn’t help but turn her full attention to Ezra. She gazed at his warm smile as he laughed with the employees, at his strong arms when he lifted up a tree. There was an undeniable attraction, but was it really a good idea to pursue it? She’d be back in Seattle at the end of the season, which was fast approaching.

Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She checked the caller ID and saw Ella’s photo, probably calling for a little ‘I told you so’ reminder. Lily looked back at Ezra and figured it would take a while to load all the trees, so she had time for a quick chat.

“Hey El,” she said, her voice beyond hoarse.

“Oh my god, Lily. You sound absolutely terrible.”

“I know, I know.” Lily walked a few steps away from the warehouse. “Turns out you were right about everything. The cold, the boss… everything.”

Ella sighed at the other end of the line. “You know I usually like to hear you say I’m right, but this time, I’m just worried.”

“Don’t, I’m currently fixing it. Well, actually, Ezra is fixing it for me as we speak.”

“Ezra? The cute guy who offered you a singing gig?”

“Yep, the same one!” Lily looked back at Ezra. He was still hauling trees into the bed of the truck.

Ella laughed. “Girl, I can hear the dreamy tone even with your voice all fucked up. Are you guys hitting it up?”

“El! Come on! We’ve just met, and I’m not like that. You know me.”

“Lily, I’ve been telling you this for years. Have some fun, for christ’s sake. At least take the guy on a date or two while you’re there. What’s the harm?”

Lily rubbed her nose with her gloved hand. “What if I want more?”

“Then you can call me and we’ll figure it out. You already took a chance with this job, why not embrace it fully and live a little?”

“I just—hhh… Da—damnit… I hhaave to… sn—“

She moved the phone away from her face, covering her nose with her scarf.

“Hhh—iihh—sheeeew! Iihh—tsheeew! Hhh… G—god… Hhh—iih—TSHEEEW!”

“Bless you,” said Ezra not too far behind her.

Lily jumped and turned around. Ezra was walking towards her with a deep frown on his face. She brought the phone back to her ear long enough to blurt out, “I gotta go.” She could hear Ella’s faint voice yelling at her to “get some rest, for Pete’s sake.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Ezra, examining her with soft eyes. “It’s just… It’s really cold out here and… I noticed that you were shivering.”

Lily hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. Her whole body was shaking, and she realized just how cold she was. The humid wind blew right through her, chilling her to the bone.

“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” he added gently. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

Thirty minutes later, Ezra and Lily drove off with the forty Christmas trees secured in the truck bed and on the trailer. Lily felt giddy with relief. She couldn’t wait to see the happy faces of customers coming in to buy the tree they actually wanted, instead of seeing their disappointed look as they left empty-handed. She never knew a Christmas tree lot could become so depressing, and she never wanted to experience it again.

“I don’t even know how to repay you,” said Lily.

“It was nothing, really. I enjoyed this little road trip.” Ezra kept his eyes on the road, as if stricken by shyness.

Lily remembered Ella’s advice on the phone, and before her brain could even catch on, she heard herself say, “How about we test your goalie skills tomorrow night?”

Ezra turned his head to look at her, his smile so warm it threatened to catch fire. “That sounds great!” He thought for a moment and added, “But are you sure you’ll be better by then?”

Lily nodded, confident. “For sure. I’m never sick more than one or two days. I already feel better!” It was a little lie, but she knew that with her anxiety gone, she’d be able to sleep and would be as good as new in the morning.

“Tomorrow night it is, then!”

*****

“Just go back to bed,” said Aiden, leaning back on the counter, watching Lily down cold medicine tablets with a sip of coffee. “You’re obviously not better.”

It was the next day, well into the afternoon, and the lot was as busy as ever. But Lily hadn’t woken up as good as new, as she’d expected. In fact, she definitely felt worse.

“I’m fine,” she squeaked.

“That is definitely not the sound of a ‘fine’ person,” mocked Aiden.

Lily turned around quickly, grabbing tissues from a box nearby. “Iihh—tsheeeew!”

“Also not a ‘fine’ sound. Just FYI.”

Lily glared at him over her tissues. She did not have the energy to banter with Aiden. Her throat hurt, her head throbbed, her sinuses felt heavy and hot. She had on about four layers of clothes, but couldn’t seem to get warm. However, since they’d brought in more trees, they were dealing with an uptick in customers, and Lily couldn’t afford to stay back. Especially since Tommy had called in sick and nobody else that wasn’t already working today was available.

“Suit yourself,” said Aiden, raising his hands in capitulation.

Since her voice was too hoarse to try to sell trees, and she didn’t want to risk infecting customers by handling their money, Lily had decided to take on the job of wrapping the Christmas trees in mesh and resupplying the lot when trees sold. It was a grueling, physical job that drained her already limited energy, but it was the most logical decision. She managed to take a few breaks during the day, sleeping in the RV whenever she could, but she still worked on the lot from opening ‘til close.

When 10 pm rolled around and the lot had finally closed, she sat down on a stool, exhausted, while Aiden counted the money.

“Now you can finally go to sleep,” said Aiden, writing down the amount on an inventory sheet.

Lily shook her head. “Can’t.”

“What? Why not? Don’t tell me you’re going to clean up the lot, I swear to god…”

Lily laughed, which caused her to cough a little. “No, it’s not that. I’ve got a… thing.”

Aiden gave her a knowing smile. “A thing, huh? With who?” He shook his head. “Actually you know what? It doesn’t matter who. You should definitely cancel.”

Lily had debated canceling all day, but she really wanted to go. She had already taken another dose of cold medicine and knew it would kick in long enough for her to enjoy her date. Since Ezra was picking her up at 10:30, she figured they would play hockey for an hour or two and call it a night. After a day of dragging trees around, ice skating sounded like a lovely, relaxing time.

And she really wanted to see Ezra.

“I’m not going to cancel. He’s already seen me sick anyway.”

Aiden squinted his eyes. “Wait… Is it Ezra? It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” He started laughing. “You’ve got a date with Ezra. I knew it!”

“Oh shush,” said Lily, wiping her nose for the millionth time. “We’re just going to hang out for a couple of hours. It’s not really a date per se.”

“I think you guys look cute together,” mocked Aiden, batting his eyes. He zipped the cash pouch and handed it to Lily. “Have fun on your *cough* date *cough*.” He gasped, overplaying an expression of surprise. “Oh no, I think you got me sick!”

Lily smacked his arm with the envelope, and Aiden fake-coughed as he walked to his car. “I might have to call in sick tomorrow like Tommy *cough* *cough*.”

“Wait, is he not actually sick?”

Aiden turned around and shrugged, still walking backward towards the parking lot. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” he shouted as he reached his car. “Feel better!”

Lily shook her head, trying not to get mad at Tommy. She breathed out and headed to her trailer to freshen up. Of course, Ezra had seen her sick the day before, but this was an actual date—no matter how much she’d downplayed it to Aiden.

She splashed cold water on her face from the small kitchen sink, and managed to put on enough makeup to look presentable. She kept on her layers of clothing, dreading even the idea or removing them and feeling the cold on her skin. Thankfully, the pills had started to take effect and her headache eased. Her nose also wasn’t as runny. It’ll be fine, she thought. Just as she finished up, she heard Ezra’s car driving into the lot and went outside to meet him.

Ezra waved to Lily as he got out of the car. Lily waved back, but a prickle hit deep in her sinuses, forcing her to divert all of her attention to it. She murmured a quick “oh!” and brought her hand to her face, ready to catch the sneezes.

“Hhh—iihh—tsheeeew! Iih—tsheeeew! Iihh—TSHEEEEW!”

“Oh no,” said Ezra as he reached her. “I was going to ask if you’re feeling better, but I guess I have my answer.”

Lily sniffled, reaching for tissues stashed in her coat pocket. “I’m fine,” she said. “Still getting over this cold but I really want to play hockey.”

Ezra hesitated, surveying her face, as if for any signs that she wasn’t well enough. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Lily nodded with big, hopeful eyes as she dabbed at her nose.

“It’s hard to resist that look,” said Ezra, chuckling. “Let’s go.”

*****

Snow had started falling by the time they arrived at the location. It was a small natural preserve with hiking trails snaking through a dense wooded area. The place was quiet and the path well lit, creating a magical atmosphere with the puffy snowflakes dancing in the light. They walked beneath tall and narrow trees, the sound of their boots crunching in the snow filling the air.

“The pond is about two minutes that way,” said Ezra, pointing forward. He was carrying two pairs of ice skates slung on his shoulder, their blades occasionally clinking together.

“It’s so quiet,” murmured Lily. “Whenever it snows at night, it always feels like I’m in a monastery. Like I should keep my voice down and pay my respect to Mother Nature.”

“I know what you mean,” said Ezra. “All the sounds are muffled. It feels like we’re walking into a tunnel, and we’re about to step into outerspace at any moment.”

They kept walking in silence for a bit, until the wind picked up and sent a flurry of sharp ice flakes on Lily’s face. Somehow, a few of them hit her sensitive nostrils, and she gasped as a wave of prickles assaulted her nose. “Oh no,” she whispered, before bending away from Ezra to sneeze.

“Hhh—iihh—sheeew! Iihh—TSHEEEW!”

The last sneeze had been particularly loud, and it echoed in the forest around them. Ezra cracked up, managing a “bless you” in between laughs. “So much for the monastery peacefulness,” he said, and Lily burst out laughing as well.

When they finally reached the pond, Lily gasped in admiration. It was a small patch of ice in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by the same lanky trees from the trail. Warm Christmas lights had been strung on their naked branches, creating an intimate, breathtaking ambience.

Ezra guided Lily to a large horizontal trunk on the side of the pond that people had been using as a bench. As they both sat to tie their skates on, snow stopped falling and the clouds started clearing, letting in a bit of moonlight.

“Do you think skating is like riding a bike?” Ezra asked as he bent behind the trunk to retrieve two well-used hockey sticks and a puck.

“I hope so,” Lily said before standing up and awkwardly walking to the ice. She put her first skate on the ice, apprehensive, and then the other. The first few kicks were a bit wobbly, and Ezra stayed by her side just in case, but Lily soon got her bearings and glided around the ice like it was second nature. It felt great to be back.

They circled the pond a few times, Lily reacquainting herself with the techniques and trying a few things like skating backward and pivoting.

“How does it feel?” asked Ezra, watching her with a delighted smile.

“Amazing,” said Lily, feeling the rush of adrenaline as she picked up speed.

Ezra handed her a hockey stick when she skated by him. She grabbed it and started playing with the puck.

“Where’s the goal?” she said, sniffling.

“We usually use branches. Here,” Ezra said, skating to the edge and hopping in the snow to gather a few branches. He placed them on the ice in the shape of a two-dimensional goal.

Lily laughed. “Did you guys run out of money after buying all the lights?”

“Did I mention we were unofficially playing hockey?” said Ezra, chuckling. “But I meant what I said about being a good goalie. Show me what you’ve got.”

They played for a good twenty minutes, Lily scoring goal after goal as Ezra tried to keep his branches from sliding away. They both laughed so hard that soon, none of them could even hold up the hockey sticks.

“How about a break?” asked Ezra, out of breath.

Lily nodded. Fatigue hit her like a ton of bricks, her energy finally reaching the “Empty” gage and sputtering. She wondered if the medicine had stopped working early, too, because all of her symptoms were back. It didn’t matter, though. She felt happy.

She sniffed, trying to keep her nose from running, but instead caused cold air to hit too deep. She felt a burning sensation that turned into another irritating prickle. She let go of the hockey stick, which clattered on the ice at her feet, and dug for tissues from her coat pocket.

“Everything OK?” asked Ezra, sitting on the ice near his goal.

Lily nodded. “Just—hhh got… gotta—hhh… Iihh—TSHEEEEW!”

The sneeze overpowered her small frame, and she bent forward under the force of it, losing footing. Her reflex was to counterbalance and straighten her back, only causing her to slip further and fall flat on her butt.

Ezra shot up to his feet, rushing to her side. “Are you OK?!”

Lily laid all the way back on the ice, laughing. “This is ridiculous,” she said, giggling and coughing a little. “I’m such a mess, I can’t believe you even agreed to this.” She brought the tissues back up to her nose to wipe it.

Ezra laid next to her on the ice. “You’re not a mess,” he said with a smile. “You’re adorable.”

Lily stopped laughing and blushed, her eyes fixed on the sky. Clouds had completely cleared, uncovering a night full of stars, so many stars that Lily couldn’t take them all in.

“I forgot about the stars,” she said, breathless.

“It’s the best part.”

Lily turned her head towards Ezra. “I’m glad I came here.”

“Me too,” said Ezra, looking into Lily’s eyes.

They both inched closer to each other, their lips almost touching. “What about my cold?” whispered Lily.

“The one I gave you?” Ezra whispered back, a hint of a smile on his lips, and all Lily wanted was to taste it.

Their lips touched in a shy and delicate kiss, until Ezra removed his gloves to cradle Lily’s face in his hands. Their kissed instantly took a passionate turn... That is until Lily gasped and moved her head away. Her breath hitched as they were still inches apart. She quickly brought her scarf over her nose and ducked away from Ezra.

“Iihh—tsheeew! Hhh—Ihh—sheeeew!”

“Bless you—“

“Iihh—thseeew—Iihh—TSHEEEW! Hhh—ihh—TSHEEEW!”

“Oh, Lily… bless you,” said Ezra, frowning. “You’re so sick.”

They both sat up, and Lily brought out more tissues to wipe her irritated nose. “Sorry about this,” she said, embarrassed.

“Don’t be. I just…” he looked at her closely, and his concern only seemed to deepen. He put his hand on her forehead, gently. “I figured. You have a fever, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

*****

Ezra held the door to the RV open for Lily, and followed her in.

“Do you need anything?” he asked as she removed her beanie and her gloves.

“No, I should be alright. I still have some of the medicine you bought.”

Ezra looked around with a shocked expression that made Lily wonder if she’d left something scandalous out in the open. But then again, she didn’t exactly have anything scandalous to leave out.

“Is this really where you’ve been sleeping since you’ve arrived?” asked Ezra in disbelief.

“Yes…” said Lily, not following. It wasn’t exactly luxury, but it was tidy enough.

“It’s incredibly drafty,” he said, pushing on the door and putting his hand around the frame to feel for cold air. “No wonder you got sick.” He moved to the window in the kitchen area and checked there too. “And no wonder you never got better.”

Lily shrugged. “I spend most of my time out there near the heating lamp. In here, I just sleep under a bunch of blankets.”

“That’s not enough if you’re sick,” said Ezra, worried. “Why don’t you come sleep at my place?” And then, as if he realized that what he’d said sounded lewd, he added quickly. “I’ve got a guest room, of course.”

Lily laughed. “I think you’re overreacting a little bit.”

“I just hate the thought of leaving you here with a fever,” he said, looking so sad that it almost broke Lily’s heart. “I’ve got a fireplace. And hot food.”

Lily imagined sitting in front of a fireplace, and suddenly, the RV felt as freezing as a dead cold heart. And if she was honest with herself, she knew she didn’t have the energy to spend the entire night battling a fever in the RV. She would probably sleep in her winter coat to avoid the dreaded feeling of slipping into a cold bed.

She nodded. “A fireplace sounds very nice.”

*****

The thermometer beeped, and Ezra took it out of Lily’s mouth. He frowned and touched her forehead again, then her cheek. “You feel much warmer than it says,” he murmured. “Is this thing broken?”

They sat on Ezra’s couch in front of the beautiful stone fireplace of his small chalet-style home. A huge window covered the front wall of the house, reaching up to the second floor, and Lily couldn’t stop gazing out at the tall snowy pines swaying in the wind, enthralled by the gorgeous winter view.

“Your hands are still cold from being outside,” said Lily, smiling. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry.” She put her hand on Ezra’s arm, hoping to ease the worry lines etched on his forehead. “I promise.”

Ezra gave her a sad smile. “You’ve been saying that since the start, but you just get worse.”

Lily gestured around the cozy living room. “How can I not get better now that I’m here?” She resisted the urge to say ‘with you,’ wondering if it was a bit too cheesy, even though she meant it. “I still can’t believe you live here.” The other Christmas tree she’d sold to Ezra stood next to the roaring fire, elegant and sparsely decorated, which let the natural branches shine.

Ezra chuckled. “I’m used to it by now, I guess. It was our parents’ home after Melinda and I both moved out. I bought it from them when they retired, and Melinda has been staying here for now.” He put the thermometer back on the coffee table and readjusted the blanket on Lily’s shoulders. “Relationship troubles,” he whispered, even though Melinda was fast asleep in her bedroom upstairs.

“It’s like living in a vacation chalet all year-long,” she mused. Her breath caught in her throat as the persistent feathery tickle at the back of her nose flared again. She bent down to retrieve a few tissues from the coffee table and let her breath hitch, no longer having the energy to fight them.

“Hhh… Hhh—ihh—tsheeeew!” Lily covered her nose with the tissues, jerking forward with the force of the irritated, exhausted sneezes. “Ihh—tsheeeew!” She gasped, expecting a third sneeze that didn’t materialize. She felt Ezra's hand on her back rubbing in circles as she waited, her nose itching furiously, her head titled back and her mouth parted slightly. “G—god… Hhh… Ihh—TSHEEEEW! Ihh—TSHEEEEEW!”

“Bless you.” Ezra shook his head, still rubbing Lily’s back. He gazed into her watery, feverish eyes. “It’s killing me how sick you look. I just want to hug you and make it all go away.”

Lily wiped her nose and groaned, melting into Ezra’s hand on her back. He shifted closer to her and opened his arms. She gratefully put her head on his chest as he embraced her tenderly and kissed the top of her head. “I have to say, you are the most adorable sick person I have ever met in my life,” he said, chuckling. “Down to your cute squeaky sneeze.”

Lily laughed, which turned into a small cough.

“Sorry,” whispered Ezra, rubbing her back again. “I shouldn’t make you laugh.”

“Isn’t laughter the best medicine?” asked Lily, getting sleepier by the minute.

“Rest is the best medicine,” said Ezra. “You should get some sleep. You need to get better so that you can taste my delicious turkey on Christmas Eve.”

Lily smiled, imagining spending Christmas in the chalet with Ezra. She drifted off to sleep with a contented sigh, listening to the crackle of the fire.

She awoke early the next morning in the guest bedroom, still fully clothed but underneath the covers. She got up, shivering, her head still full of cold, her throat still hurting, but her spirits high. She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen/living room area. Nobody else was awake yet. She stood in front of the large window, in awe. Huge snowflakes fell from the sky like strands of silk, covering her entire field of vision. The only thing she could see through the white blanket was the pines, strong and proud, their green branches peeking through as if nothing could defeat them.

She wiggled her nose, feeling a sneeze brewing. She cupped her hand over her mouth and nose, hoping to stifle as to not wake anyone up. She hitched a few times until the sneezes tumbled out of her.

“Hhh—ihhh—NNGXXShh! Ihh—NNGXShheew! Iihh—NNGXXXShh!”

“Bless you,” said a voice at the top of the stairs.

Lily turned around to see Ezra in a t-shirt and flannel pants coming down the stairs, looking sleepy and gorgeous. Her heart flipped in her chest.

“You should still be in bed,” he said with a warm smile, as if he were glad that she wasn’t. “Are you feeling OK?” He didn’t wait for her answer, and put his lips near her temple. “You don’t feel too warm. That’s good,” he murmured.

Lily smiled and embraced him, nuzzling her head in his chest. Ezra put his arms around her, and she felt instantly safe. “I was just thinking,” she said, glancing back at the window. “I think I love snow after all.”

Ezra chuckled. “I’m glad you do.”

They stood there in the early morning light, watching the snow fall.

“I could get used to this,” said Lily.

There was a small moment of silence, as if Ezra was holding his breath.

“I hope you do,” he finally said, and Lily could hear the warmth of his smile filling his voice.

And she decided it was all the warmth she would ever need.

Leonie struggled to swim back to reality, stuck in a hyperfocused haze of numbers and calculations. “What time is it?” She darted her eyes back at the screen and checked the computer clock. How could time fly by so fast?

“Almost 8:30 pm. When is your date?” Lisa took a step in the small, dark office. She reached for the light switch, but decided against it at the last second.

Leonie groaned, rubbing her face with both of her hands. “9:00 pm. I should just cancel. I’m definitely coming down with something.” She swallowed tentatively, and sure enough, there it was. A soreness deep in her throat, and a heavy, swollen feeling in the back of her palate. She’d been feeling under the weather for the past two days, downing orange juice every morning. She’d even tried a few fizzy vitamin C powder packets mixed with water, which tasted nothing like their advertised flavor.

“You can’t cancel again! He’s going to think you’re toying with him,” said Lisa. She took a seat in the hard plastic chair in front of Leonie’s desk.

Leonie hated those chairs. They made her feel like her body was a collection of sharp bones arranged just the perfect way to dig painfully into the plastic. A proletarian’s torture device.

“But Lisa, I’m sick! How rude would—“As if to illustrate her point, Leonie’s nose caught fire, twitching under the assault of a fierce tickle. Leonie sucked a breath through her mouth before catching a sneeze into the crook of her elbow. “Heh—TSHHiu!”

“OK, now you’re just being dramatic,” said Lisa, laughing. “Isn’t he a doctor anyway? He’s used to this kind of stuff. All you have to do is get through a one- or two-hour dinner, make a good enough impression for a second date, and you’re golden. You can work the charm later.”

Leonie grabbed a tissue from a box tucked neatly in her top drawer. “You just want me to go because he’s a doctor.” She blew her nose with one hand, blinking away the wetness in her teary eyes.

Sick or not, she had no desire to go. Her mother had arranged this date, which added insult to injury. Dating was too daunting for Leonie. Too many variables, too many emotions difficult to control. There was a reason she’d chosen to become an accountant. Numbers were her solace, a reprieve from her constantly brimming mind.

In fact, if she could choose right now between spending the night working on taxes, like she’d been doing for the past week, and going on a two-hour date with Dr. Vo, she’d pick work in a heartbeat.

“Come on,” said Lisa, her voice low and daring. “You don’t even sound sick yet. He won’t notice.” She cocked her head to the side. “If you can keep your nose in check, that is.”

Leonie sighed. Lisa was right; she’d already canceled twice because of work, hence the very late dinner date. And her mother would hold it against her if she didn’t at least try to meet the guy. She’d tell everyone in the neighborhood, including the cashier at her favorite grocery store, that her eldest daughter never listened to her and would end up alone, and did she ever tell them about this nice doctor she once tried to set her up with, and how much Leonie’s life would have been different if only she’d followed her dear old mother’s advice?

“Fine,” said Leonie, before hastily grabbing another tissue and burying her nose in it, her eyelids fluttering. “Ehh’NGXXT!”

“That’s pretty good! Just stifle them like that when he’s not looking. Won’t notice a thing.”

Leonie scoffed, wiping her nose. “Just a simple ‘bless you’ would suffice, Lisa.”

“Oh, bless you bless you bless you. Now come on, get out of here before you’re late!”

****

Night had fallen like a curtain and now draped over the city, dotted by street lamps casting their glow on the sidewalks. Leonie walked from spotlight to spotlight, readjusting the thin scarf around her neck. She regretted not choosing a thicker one this morning, and she especially regretted changing into a little black dress for her date. Goosebumps traveled in waves over her exposed legs with each gust of wind.

The wind was freezing, hailing from the last breath of winter. March had always been a moody, unpredictable month in New England. One day, spring almost veered into early summer, and the next, snowfalls wrecked havoc on the morning commute. No wonder Leonie had caught a cold. How was one supposed to dress in March?

Leonie felt a buzz in her coat pocket. Another text from her mom.

Mom: Ask him what he misses about Vietnam.

Leonie rolled her eyes. It was the tenth conversational tip her mom had sent today, all of them regarding something Vietnamese. His favorite Vietnamese dish, how to say “good morning” in Vietnamese, his thoughts about the Vietnam War (!), and other clumsy, Vietnamese-obsessed questions.

Leonie: I get that he’s Vietnamese, mom, but I don’t think he wants to talk about his heritage all evening. Plus, wasn’t he born here?

Mom: I’m just trying to help!

How had Leonie gotten to this point in her life? Single at thirty-four, going on a blind date arranged by her own mother, desperate enough to brave the unpredictable weather with a blossoming cold just in case the man turned out to be dating material. The probabilities were against her, and she knew it. Her mind was mathematical, yet her heart never listened.

Leonie sniffled as a gust of wind made her eyes and nose water. Her sinuses felt hot and heavy.

A pang of nostalgia and sadness hit her square in the chest. She missed her ex the most when she was sick. She had this crisp memory of him bringing her a cup of tea in bed when she’d caught a cold, right before they broke up. He’d chosen her favorite mug, the one shaped like an owl. After placing it on her nightstand, he’d lovingly kissed her forehead. One last shred of tenderness before it all turned sour.

It was over a year ago, and yet Leonie still longed for that moment whenever she felt vulnerable. If she were a superhero, this would be her weakness. A dash of rhinovirus and a cup of hot tea: her very own Kryptonite. Enough to turn her into a blubbering, needy mess.

Her phone still in her hand, she navigated to the contact list, as she’d done thousands of times before, flicking right to Mike’s phone number. She glanced down at it as she walked, knowing that she wouldn’t call, and yet feeling comforted that if she wanted to, she could.

But he probably wouldn’t answer.

She pocketed her phone, and instead fished a packet of tissues. Her runny nose had turned devilishly tickly. Leonie took a few shallow breaths, trying to hold in the sneeze while she fumbled with the tape on the cellophane. She stopped walking to focus on the task at hand, her eyes half-closed and her head tilting, as if pulled back by the tickle in her sinuses. Her fingers tore impatiently at the packet, but it was too late. She doubled over, sneezing uncovered towards the ground.

“Hehh—TSSHHiu!”

A passerby jumped out of the way, startled. “Geez, bless you!”

He continued on his way without waiting for a thank you, chuckling at his own reaction. Leonie’s face had turned lava red, her skin scalding from embarrassment.

A few blocks away, Dr. Vo probably waited for her at the bar & grill he’d chosen.

Leonie was five minutes late, Kryptonite-riddled, and ready for the night to be over.

****

This isn’t too bad, Leonie tried to convince herself as she took a sip of iced water, menu in hand. She was sitting in front of Dr. Vo, or Patrick, as he’d insisted that she calls him.

The fact that he wasn’t 60 years old had somehow managed to shock her. She, of course, knew he was in his late 30s; her mother had told her so, but Leonie still refused to believe that doctors could be her age. She always imagined them to be the good old doctors who needed glasses to write up a prescription, with their wrinkly hands and grandfatherly smile. She’d forgotten that she was now at the age where doctors could even be YOUNGER than her. How horrifying.

But Patrick was far from horrifying. Leonie looked at him over her menu. He had the kindess eyes she’d ever seen. His angular face softened the moment he locked eyes with you, his whole face alive in a quiet, yet intense focus. His black hair peppered with gray reinforced his calm and composed demeanor. In an emergency, Patrick seemed like the type of person to take control and keep everyone settled.

“Should we get any appetizers? You must be starving after working so late,” said Patrick, lowering his menu and giving her a sympathetic look. “I hear their mozzarella sticks are delicious.”

Leonie had to concentrate on Patrick’s lips to make out what he was saying. The bar & grill was packed with people. The buzzing of conversation had reached the noise level of a spaceship launch, rumbling through her brain and giving her a headache.

“Sure, that sounds good!” she said, trying to sound excited.

They sat in silence for another minute, eyes glancing over the laminated menu. Leonie realized that she hadn’t mentally prepared for this date. Not only had she somehow expected Patrick to be an old, almost-retired doctor, but conversation subjects also eluded her. She tried to form interesting questions in her mind, but the noise and a brewing tickle in her sinuses made it incredibly hard to concentrate.

“So my mother mentioned that you’re Vietnamese? Do you speak the language?” she blurted out without taking her eyes from the menu. The bitter taste of instant regret filled her mouth. She’d sworn that she would stay far away from any dumb questions about his ethnicity. Thanks, mom.

“I’m actually Japanese.”

Leonie’s heart dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, no, I’m joking! I’m Vietnamese,” said Patrick with an uneasy chuckle. “I apologize, I tend to make terrible jokes when I’m nervous.”

Leonie looked at him in shock, her eyes wide. And then burst out laughing. Patrick joined in, until they were both laughing so hard that people glanced at them from the neighboring tables.

The joke had been so unexpected, and the delivery so impeccable, that Leonie’s nerves had turned into uncontrollable giggles. And just like that, the tension between them disappeared.

“Your deadpan is amazing,” said Leonie, out of breath and almost euphoric from the laughter.

“So I’ve been told, but it gets me in trouble sometimes,” replied Patrick, back to his initial composure. “And to answer your question, I do not speak Vietnamese. My parents both moved here when they were young and spoke English to me. They know Vietnamese, but they didn’t pass it on to me, sadly.”

The waiter interrupted them, introducing himself and asking if they were ready to order. While Patrick asked about their selection of beers, Leonie sniffled, feeling the tickle growing more intense. A sneeze was definitely brewing. She picked up her menu and tried to hide behind it.

The burning sensation traveled from the back of her sinuses to the right side of her nose. Leonie itched a few breaths, praying that Patrick wouldn’t finish ordering before the sneeze came. She folded her index finger under her nose, while keeping the menu up with the other hand. Finally, her head bobbed towards her chest.

“Ehh… Hh! IIH’GNXTT!”

She gave a little sniff and let out a sigh of relief. With the amount of ambient noise, Patrick couldn’t have heard the stifle.

“And for you, miss?”

Leonie lowered her menu, looking up at the waiter in confusion.

“Anything to drink?” he said politely, pen and paper in hand.

“Oh! I’ll have a glass of Riesling, thank you.” She winced at how congested her voice sounded. She sniffled again, trying to act casual, and glanced back at Patrick.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed anything.

****

The ice had been proverbially shattered.

Much to Leonie’s surprise, she and Patrick had fallen into conversation as naturally as old friends who hadn’t seen each other in forever. For the next hour, not a second of silence had a chance to settle between them.

The only interruptions came from the waiter, who brought them their drinks and a plate of mozzarella sticks. Patrick had eaten half of the appetizer, and politely left the other half for Leonie, but she wasn’t particularly hungry. At least the wine had dulled her senses, along with her symptoms. Patrick was also keeping her entertained, recounting stories of his childhood camping trips. Leonie practically forgot her burgeoning illness.

But shortly after they sent the waiter away for the fifth time, asking for “a little bit more time” to make a decision on their entrees, Leonie’s nose decided it was done being ignored.

She felt the telltale signs of a sneeze deep within her sinuses, but gave it no mind, focusing instead on Patrick’s story.

“…parents would let us pitch our own tent further in the woods…”

However, the tickle grew exponentially stronger, sending a shiver down Leonie’s back. She tried to quell it by pushing her tongue up her palate, but it didn’t make a dent in the sneeze’s progression. When she sniffed, the tickle sizzled like a splash of water on burning coal.

“…left the tent pole at the camp, but after making such a fuss with the parents…”

This wasn’t going to be a one-off sneeze that Leonie could hide behind a menu. Despite her eyes watering, she tried to maintain an interested smile, nodding along at the story. But she was no longer paying attention, her focus consumed by the ravenous tickle making its way down her nose.

“…shapeless tarp on the ground, and all sorts of nocturnal animals that…”

She could feel her eyes closing involuntarily, her nose scrunching ever so slightly. She had to act fast, but wasn’t sure what do to. Risk a snotty, sneezing fit in front of her date and humiliate herself, or interrupt his story and run to the restroom, making him think that she battled some sort of digestive trouble.

Ultimately, she just couldn’t trust her nose.

“…didn’t end up sleeping much, staring at the stars and waiting for—“

“I’m s—so sorry Patrick, could you eh… excuse me a second?”

Leonie grabbed her purse and headed towards the restroom behind Patrick, trying her best to act as normal as possible. Her lips parted, her breath hitched. She had almost reached the restroom’s door when the tickle took complete hold of her nose.

“EHH’NNGGXXT!”

Leonie stumbled forward in her heels under the force of the stifle, but held her balance. She prayed that Patrick wasn’t watching her right now, wondering why she’d left so abruptly. She pushed the door to the ladies’ room without glancing back.

She locked herself in a stall, rolling a wad of toilet paper around her hand while the next sneeze built up. Her eyes were streaming from the intensity of the burn in her sinuses, and she longed for some relief.

She leaned back on the stall door and gave herself fully to the fit.

“EEHT’SSSHHiu!! EHHh… TSSHHHH! NNT’SSHHiu!”

Leonie buried her nose in the rough toilet paper, catching every sneeze, but she wasn’t done. Mucus had loosened up in her nose and spawned another irresistible tingle. She threw the used wad of paper in the toilet and grabbed another one, rubbing her nose furiously with it. She gave a tiny, liquid sniffle, which was enough to trigger another set of itchy sneezes.

She breathed one urgent, quivering lungful of air and covered her nose with the toilet paper. The sneezes came hard and fast, riding on the same breath and leaving her panting.

“EHH’TSSSHHUU—TSSSHiu! TSSHH—Tssshh—Tshhh…!”

She gasped, and one last, powerful sneeze echoed in the empty restroom. “HEHH’TSSHHHIIUUU!!”

Finally, the tickle was gone.

Leonie blinked away the tears. She blew her nose a few times to clear her sinuses as much as possible, but the damage was done. The cold had now officially taken over.

****

When Leonie rejoined the table, a fresh glass of wine was waiting for her. Patrick smiled, but didn’t mention anything about her sudden escape to the restroom. Polite and considerate, no wonder Leonie’s mother wanted her to meet him.

Leonie took a sip of her wine, struggling with the throbbing pressure behind her eyes and nose. The restaurant had somehow gotten louder. Groups of people were laughing raucously, enjoying drinks and relaxing after a hard week. The lights had been dimmed even more, and music blared through the speakers peppered around the room, some fast tempo with a lot of bass. The bar & grill was turning into a club & grill.

Patrick said something to Leonie, but she couldn’t understand him.

“Not hungry?” he repeated louder, pointing at the mozzarella sticks. Crap. This poor man had waited until 9 pm to meet her for dinner, and all he’d had to eat was half a measly appetizer.

“Sorry, I’ve been working such long hours, I forget what it’s like to be a human being,” she joked. “But please, you should order dinner!”

“I would tell you that skipping meals is not good for your health, but I myself had to skip lunch today to squeeze a patient in… and then broke down at 7 pm and ate a sandwich. Or two.”

Leonie laughed. “What a great pair we make, unable to feed ourselves like real human beings.” She bit her bottom lip. Maybe using the word “pair” was a little too strong on the first date.

“Busy lives, busy minds,” he said, shrugging. “We always find a way to make it work.”

“Speaking of which, thank you for not giving up on me after I rescheduled twice.”

He chuckled. “Well, your mother had great things to say about you. I couldn’t pass this chance.”

Leonie almost choked on her sip of wine. “Wait, you talked to my mother directly? I thought this was a mother-to-mother kind of deal?”

“Oh no, she’s a patient of my partner at the clinic. He introduced us a few months ago when she came for her annual exam. She called the office a couple of times to make sure that you and I would meet.”

Leonie was fuming. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe she pestered you like that…”

“Don’t be. I’m glad that she did. I’m having a great time.”

Leonie blushed, unable to keep from smiling. It was too early to call, but she really did enjoy his company. She hated to admit that her mom was right, but despite her illness, Leonie felt comfortable around Patrick. Maybe she was finally ready to move on and share her life with someone new.

She shook her head. This was classic Leonie; getting ahead of herself. She’d met the guy less than an hour ago, and she was already imagining moving in with him and having kids. What was wrong with her. How about enjoying the present and the casualness of hanging out with someone for a while? Why did everything have to be so serious with her?

Suddenly, she longed to go back to the office and bury her head in numbers.

As Leonie took another sip of wine, she tipped the glass over her nose a little deeper, and got a whiff of the fruity, sweet perfume of the drink. For some reason, it irritated her sinuses. Her nose twitched under the glass while she finished her sip. She swallowed quickly, knowing a sneeze was impending, but she barely had time to lower the glass. It came so fast that she didn’t have time to formulate a plan on how to subdue it. She reflexively turned to the side and brought a loose fist under her nose to lessen the inevitable spray.

“Ehh’TSHHiu!” She kept her knuckles over her nose, embarrassed to sneeze at the dinner table like this, so close to food. Even if no one was eating it.

“Bless you.”

Leonie lifted her head to thank Patrick. He was looking at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes even kinder than before, which seemed almost impossible. Leonie sniffed and winced at how wet it sounded, further adding to her embarrassment. At least her nose wasn’t overly runny. Yet.

“How about we go somewhere more quiet?” said Patrick over the noise of laughter from a neighboring table.

Leonie nodded, rubbing at her nose. Patrick dropped a few bills on the table, and they filed out of the restaurant, avoiding eye contact with the poor server who’d tried taking their order about a million times.

****

As soon as they stepped outside, Leonie let out a sigh of relief. The night was cold and quiet, and the moon tiptoed in the sky.

Leonie welcomed the contrast. Because her ears had overadjusted to the loudness of the bar, sounds now appeared muffled to her. She always loved that feeling. It was like walking through cotton balls, enveloped by clouds and protected from the sharp edges of the world.

“The nights have gotten so cold these past few days,” said Patrick, rubbing his hands together.

Leonie nodded and took a deep breath, enjoying the refreshing cold wind on her face. Her nose, however, did not particularly like it. She gave a pathetic little sniff to keep it from running too much without alerting Patrick, but all it did was set off another tickle. Great, she thought. Nowhere to hide.

Patrick stood right in front of her. “Let me see if there’s any coffee shops open late around here.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “If you still want to hang out, of course,” he added, lifting his gaze from his screen to await Leonie’s answer. He then paused, studying her face curiously while she fought the tickle.

Oh to hell with it, Leonie thought. She lifted her index finger and muttered, “I’m sorry, I gotta sn—sneeze… hhHH! IIH’TSSHiiu!”

She turned to her side, sneezing in her elbow. A couple of small coughs escaped her throat as she regained composure.

“Leonie—“ started Patrick, but Leonie interrupted him with her index finger once again.

“H—Hold on… EHH’TSSHHiu! TSSHHHiu!”

“Bless you.” Patrick took a packet of tissues from his coat’s inner pocket and offered it to Leonie. “You must be coming down with something.” He said it with such kindness that Leonie’s Kryptonitis tingled deep within her chest. “As a doctor, I would advise you to go home and rest, drink plenty of fluids…”

Leonie took out a tissue from the pack and wiped her nose. There was a “but” in his tone, which immediately soothed her embarrassment at being found out so easily.

“But as I said earlier, I really enjoy your company, so I’d like to offer you a quick cup of tea before I send you home. Of course, if you really don’t feel good, we can reschedule.”

Leonie knew that the correct course of action was to cut her losses. End it while Patrick was still somewhat into her, and try again later. She could hear Lisa in her head. “You’ve got him in your pocket, get out before it turns ugly.” But then again, wasn’t he a doctor? Lisa had said it herself: he was used to this.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the low-grade fever creeping up on her, but Leonie felt daring. Almost adventurous, which didn’t often happen to her. She didn’t want to go home and lay in bed, feeling lonely. She wanted to hear more of Patrick’s stories and…

And get that cup of tea.

“I’d love some tea,” she said with a smile. “If you don’t mind all the sneezing…”

Patrick chuckled. “I may only be a family doctor, but I have stories that would make even the worst sneeze pale in comparison. But I usually keep those for the second date, so you will have to wait. Now come on, the coffee shop is only a few blocks away. Let’s get you out of the cold.”

****

Silence befell them at last, peaceful and comfortable. As they walked, Leonie listened to the sound of their steps on the sidewalk: a chorus of arrhythmic patters, one high and thin, the other low and full. The wind ran over buildings like a ghost, howling and whistling.

Shivers had started running up and down Leonie’s spine. Her bones felt oddly floaty, and her eyes burned. Yet her spirits ran high. Definitely a buzz from the wine, but also from her fever. She could feel it on her cheeks and her nape. Low-grade, for sure. She tended to run a temperature when she had a cold, and it always gave her a tipsy-like feeling.

She thought of Mike and then decided not to, mentally scribbling over the image of his face. She stole a glance at Patrick. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were fixed on the ground. Was he thinking of his ex, too?

Was this what dating would be like from now on? Missing what was lost, hoping to find it in a stranger? Jumping from one ex to the future other? She shook her head. Stop it with the depressing thoughts.

“Oh, what is this?” said Patrick next to her, stopping in his track. He was pointing at a small alley in which a wall was painted black and covered in colorful writing.

Leonie approached the wall. “It’s a ‘Before I die…’ wall! I’ve heard about it a few months ago, but I’ve never seen one in real life. You’re supposed to use a piece of chalk to write down what you want to accomplish before you die.”

Inscriptions of different styles and angles, sizes and colors formed a beautiful jumble of hopes and dreams. Some were simple, like “Meet my neighbors,” while others were more humorous, such as “Find Atlantis.” Leonie loved the deeper ones, like “Make the world beautiful,” “Be an Iron Man,” “Forgive and be forgiven.”

“This is beautiful,” she murmured.

Patrick bent down to retrieve a few pieces of chalk on the ground. “This may be too heavy for a first date, but…” He handed Leonie a purple piece of chalk. “What do you want to accomplish before you die?”

Leonie picked it up. “Right back at you, of course.”

They both turned to the wall and took a moment to think about it. Leonie didn’t want to veer in the overly dramatic, but she also wanted to be honest. What would she wish to do before she died? What would she regret not achieving once on her death bed?

While Leonie struggled with the question, Patrick stepped up to the wall, choosing a blank spot above the rest. Although he was tall, he still needed to be on his tippy toes to write in big, loopy letters: “Make a true difference in the world.”

Leonie felt a tug at her heart. “You don’t feel like you’re making a difference by helping your patients, and even saving their lives?”

Patrick turned to face Leonie, a few deep wrinkles on his forehead. “Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough, or not big enough. The world is so vast and my influence so small. I’d like to see if I can do better than this.”

Leonie nodded, touched by his honesty.

She sniffled, her nose starting to run again. She walked up to the wall and lifted her head to write her own message. She squeezed it in between two other big wishes, her letters small and neat, as if she were writing it only for herself to see.

“Find my place in the world.”

As Leonie started the loop on the very last “d,” the wind picked up and blew a fine dusting of chalk at her face. She finished her letter, fighting a fierce tickle. Her breath hitching, her nose flaring, she took a few steps back without looking. She inadvertently stepped on a piece of chalked behind her and stumbled back.

Patrick, standing to her right, instantly reached his arm around her back to prevent her from falling. Leonie straightened up with his help, but the sneezes were unfazed by the near-fall. She managed to turn to her left, sneezing in the crook of her elbow while Patrick still had his hand on the small of her back, making sure she was stable. Their bodies were so close that Leonie could feel herself leaning against Patrick’s chest as each sneeze pushed her towards him.

“HH’IITSHHiu! Eh… EHH’TSSHHiu—Tshhh! NT’SSHHiuu!”

“Oh my, bless you!” said Patrick as he held on. “Are you alright?”

Leonie’s fevered cheeks were blazing hot. “Yes, I’m sorry, I…” Her voice cracked and she coughed a few times, stepping away from Patrick.

“No need to be sorry,” he said, his eyes still filled with worry. “But you don’t sound well. And you seem really flushed.”

He extended his hand, but hesitated halfway to Leonie’s face. However, his doctor instinct seemed to kick in, and his eyes locked in an almost professional resolve. He placed his palm on Leonie’s cheek first, and then the back of his hand on her forehead.

“This isn’t very accurate,” he said, holding out his hand, “but I’m fairly certain that you have a fever.”

Leonie nodded, sheepish, as if he was about to scold her. A shiver wracked her body, both from the fever and the fright of almost falling down.

“You’re shivering,” Patrick said, looking down at Leonie’s arms as she crossed them over her chest. “Let me drive you home.”

****

“Do you need anything?” Patrick asked, one hand still on the wheel of his car. They were idling in front of Leonie’s apartment building, the vents loudly blowing hot hair to keep them warm.

“Yes, I should be alright.” Leonie stared out of the fogged-up window. She felt awful. As much as she didn’t want to end the evening so soon, she longed for the safety and comfort of her own home. Inviting Patrick up would send the wrong message, even if it was just for coffee. Or tea. “I’d love to see you again… Once I’m better.”

“I’d love to as well.”

Leonie offered a parting smile and reached for the door handle when Patrick asked, “Do you have any medicine at home?”

Leonie paused. “Hmm. I think I have some ibuprofen or something like that.”

“I can go to the drugstore and get medicine if you would like. What are your symptoms?”

Leonie repressed a smile. Maybe Patrick didn’t want to end the night so soon either. “Headache, a bit of a fever, sore throat, sneezing, congestion… I think that’s it.”

“Go home and get warm. I’ll come back to drop off the supplies and then let you rest.”

Leonie nodded and gave him her apartment number, then stepped out of the car. She made her way up to the eighth floor and into her apartment with an odd feeling of irreality. As if her mind was floating out of her body, the stitches unseamed. The fever played a part in it, but so did the absurdity of the evening. She’d never had a date so… atypical.

And she kind of liked it.

Of course, she didn’t like being sick, but it had triggered a couple of very honest moments with Patrick. Her previous dating experiences had been quite different. Everything was usually all surface, like the hard shell on a sugar-coated candy. Except she never had the guts to bite hard enough to get to the center, too afraid of what kind of rotten flavor hid inside. It was like playing an unwanted game of Bertie Bott’s.

She turned on the lights in her studio apartment. The place was clean, as always, so there was no need to worry when Patrick would be back with the supplies. Her bed was made, the sink was empty. Everything was in its place.

She kicked off her heels, feeling the cold hardwood floor under her feet. Shivering, she turned on the heating and fetched a warm sweater and some thick socks from her dresser. She caught a glimpse or her pale face in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad. A bit tired, but her flushed cheeks and her glistening eyes could almost pass as a fresh face after a ski day.

Leonie sat on her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. She looked out the huge window taking up almost the entire back wall of her apartment. She’d chosen this particular unit because of the window. In the distance, she could see traffic on the highway, surrounded by city lights. At night, it looked like a river of scintillating rubies dancing in a field of stars. It was mesmerizing.

But somehow tonight, her tiny studio felt vast and empty, and she longed for Patrick to come back. She resisted the urge to fetch her phone and scroll down to Mike’s name once again.

Staring out the window, Leonie tried to estimate the number of rubies dancing on the highway. How many would cross the river in an hour’s time, a month’s time, a year’s time? She focused on the digits flicking through her brain as she counted. Soon, her eyes blurred, and she was lulled into a gentle slumber.

****

A knock on the door pulled Leonie out of the void. She opened her eyes, disoriented. Her skin radiated warmth. One look at her clock told her that she’d been sleeping for about 25 minutes. She tried to sniffle, but her nose was completely blocked.

Another knock and Leonie remembered Patrick. My date. Who offered to buy medicine for me, she reminded her foggy brain. She stood up and swayed, her body shivering as though the bed had sucked out all of its warmth.

She opened the door. “Hey.”

“I’m back, sorry it took so long,” said Patrick, examining her with an almost clinical intensity. “I had a hard time finding a pharmacy open 24/7.”

Leonie stepped out of the way, inviting him in.

“I don’t want to impose—“ started Patrick, but Leonie waved her hand, as if to put an end to the back-and-forth niceties she didn’t have the energy for.

“Come in and warm up for a few minutes at least,” she said.

Patrick walked to the counter, admiring the large window and the clean studio. He put down a reusable canvas bag who’d clearly been “reused” quite a bit. It bore the name of the state University, where he’d probably studied.

“Come sit down, you’re swaying,” said Patrick.

Leonie nodded and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast counter. Her head felt heavy and her throat was scratchier than before. Napping had been a terrible idea. She felt sicker and drained of all energy. Every time she moved, it was like a northern wind blew across her skin and made her shiver.

She watched as Patrick unloaded the bag. A box of cold medicine, some throat lozenges and a thermometer.

“I wasn’t sure if you had one of these,” Patrick said, removing the thermometer from the package. “It’s good to keep track of your temperature and see if the medicine is working.”

He slid the device across the counter towards Leonie, who took it and slipped it under her tongue. She took a deep breath and pressed the button, closing her lips together. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. She could not breathe through her nose.

When it finally beeped, she exhaled with relief and looked at the results. “101.1, not too bad.”

Patrick nodded. “But it’s enough to make you feel bad.”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted, tempting a smile. “But I’ve been worse, too.” Her voice sounded rough and congested. She got up. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Nothing for me, thanks. I should let you sleep. I just wanted to make sure that you’d have everything you need.” He looked at Leonie as she walked around the counter to join him in the inner kitchen area. “But you need to keep yourself hydrated. Maybe some tea?”

Leonie nodded, her heart fluttering. A cup of tea.

She grabbed the kettle on the stovetop and turned to the sink.

Patrick extended his hand towards it. “Want me to make it for you?”

Leonie hesitated, but shook her head. “Nah, I got this. Thank you.” She filled the kettle and clicked on the gas. The flame popped and she fetched her mug. The mug. The one in the shape of an owl. She dropped a bag of lemon and ginger tea in it and set it down on the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

A tickled formed in the back of her throat. She tried to clear it, but it turned into a small cough that she caught in the crook of her elbow. She winced in pain.

“I can check your throat to make sure it’s just a cold,” offered Patrick. He chuckled. “Sorry, I’m having trouble keeping ‘Dr. Vo’ from taking over.”

Leonie giggled at how embarrassed he looked, a first since she’d met him. A crack in his polite, controlled behavior. It was adorable.

“If you can save me a trip to the doctor later on…” she said before heaving herself onto the counter. The cold marble seeped through her thin jeans and sent another shiver up her back, but this time it reverberated through her nose. A tickle quickly formed, and Leonie held a hand in front of Patrick as he approached her. He stopped, confused, but understood when he saw her eyes closing and her nostrils flaring.

Leonie tilted her head back as the prickle expanded. Her knuckle reached reflexively under her nose to quell the irresistible, exquisite itch, but it only seemed to enhance it. Her breath quivered as she inhale deeply and launched forward, bringing her sweater over her nose just in time.

“Hhhh… EHHT’SSHHHiu!”

She kept her collar over the lower half of her face, her eyes still shut, feeling the tickle build up again.

“EH’TSSHiiu!”

“Bless you,” said Patrick, his voice so tender that Leonie felt weak. “I’m so sorry you don’t feel good. Hopefully it’ll be over in a few days.”

Behind him, the kettle whistled. Patrick turned and picked it up, then filled the mug to the brim and set it down on the counter next to Leonie. She stared at it, sniffling, trying to keep her feelings under control.

“May I?” Patrick said, his hands towards her face. He was tall enough that they were almost face to face. Leonie nodded. When his hands first touched her on either side of her neck, goosebumps traveled like a wave on the map of her skin. She closed her eyes, breathing in through her mouth. His fingers felt cool on her hot skin, and rough from overwashing. He palpated her neck symmetrically on each side, below her jaw, feeling for swollen lymph nodes.

It should have felt cold and clinical. Even embarrassing. But somehow, it felt intimate and loving.

Patrick’s hands went down towards her throat, always gentle. Leonie opened her eyes and saw a look of concentration on his face. His eyebrows knitted, his eyes following his own movements. Leonie bit her bottom lip and glanced at the cup of tea steaming at her side.

Her mind was a blur of emotions, attraction, neediness, nostalgia, desire. How could she tell them apart, how could she know what was real and what was Kryptonite?

Patrick grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight mode. “I’ll use this to look at your throat. Close your eyes so I don’t blind you.”

Leonie closed them, but as soon as Patrick turned his device towards her, the flash of light through her eyelids was enough to set off another tickle. She squeezed her eyes and lifted a hand.

“H—Hold… Ehh…”

Patrick quickly move the light away as Leonie turned to her side. She muffled a sneeze in her elbow.

“EHH’TSSHHHiiu!”

“Sorry,” Patrick chuckled. “Bless you. Better now?”

Leonie nodded, sniffling. At least the sneeze had cleared her mind a little. She shook her head and her shoulders, trying to loosen the fever’s grip.

Her nose behaved when Patrick tried again. She opened her mouth and said “Aaah” when asked. And just like that, the examination was over.

Patrick took a few steps back to give Leonie some space. “No signs of a serious infection in your throat. Some inflammation though, but that’s normal with a cold. Your lymph nodes are a bit swollen, so they might be tender for a few days. Like I said before, you need to rest. Sleep as much as you can, drink as often as you can. Don’t go to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” said Leonie with a smile.

“I know, but you’ve been overworking yourself for the past two weeks,” Patrick countered, his voice stern with concern. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought you absolutely needed to go in tomorrow to finish something. I have patients like you. Hardworking and loyal. But think about yourself first for a few days, alright?”

Leonie nodded, keeping her eyes down. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Alright, I’ll let you go back to sleep now.” Patrick pocketed his phone and looked around the studio one last time, as if making sure everything was in order before leaving.

Leonie slid down the counter without a word and went in for a hug. After a split second of surprise, Patrick closed his arms around her small, warm body and pressed her back gently. “I hope you feel better very soon.”

****

Once Patrick was gone, Leonie took the owl teacup and emptied it in the sink. She grabbed a different cup, steeped another bag. Then, she walked to the window and sipped her hot drink, watching the rubies flow.

In a few days, when she’d feel better, she’d call Patrick to ask him on another date.

But in the meantime, she’d just drink her tea.

She watched as her partner Makk pushed the bartender to the wall, knocking down a stack of drying glasses. Zela winced as they shattered on the ground. The bartender’s hand blindly searched the counter to his left, flinging rags and utensils around until he grabbed a knife the wrong way. He yelped as blood poured from a cut on his finger.

Zela rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Would you just calm down? You’re going to hurt yourself more than we will.” This was getting irritating.

The two men struggled for longer than usual: Makk’s enhanced Prostexs were top of the line, but the bartender was huge, both in height and weight. Zela had no doubt he’d eventually subdue the witness, but in the meantime, his backstore was getting wrecked.

“Just answer the question and maybe you’ll still have booze to serve to your clients tonight,” said Zela, leaning on a stack of boxes. Her weight caused the bottles of alcohol inside to jingle as they shifted around.

“I told you, I don’t know who he is,” grunted the man as he tried to pry off Makk’s enhanced forearm firmly placed on his chest.

Zela rolled her eyes. Her Neuronex had already identified several signs of lying on his facial features when she’d first asked. Not that she’d really needed it. The man was a terrible liar. Even an organic would have caught it.

She sighed and pushed herself off the stack of boxes. “So you’re telling me that he’s never been at your bar?”

The bartender was still struggling, pushing Makk away, but his breath had become ragged. He was finally getting tired. “Think I memorize everyone’s face? I’ve got more important shit to do.”

“Right,” said Zela. With a subtle movement of the eye, she activated the Neuronex’s facial recognition. Within a split second, information about the bartender appeared on her visual overlay. Silex McDureth. Forty-five years old. Divorced. Two kids, age ten and thirteen. “More important things like feeding your kids I bet.” As she said it, she pushed on the top most box. It crashed to the ground in a deafening explosion of glass. Zela hopped back to avoid getting alcohol all over her boots. The smells of fermented hops filled the air as fizzy liquid seeped out from the splintered wood. She never liked beer. She was more of a gin & cranberry kind of gal.

“Fuck!” Silex wheezed through Makk’s grip on his throat.

“Come on pal, just tell us the truth,” said Makk. “She’ll destroy your bar if you don’t. Trust me, she looks all small and cute, but she’ll fuck you up if you piss her off.”

Silex’s arms flopped to his side, and a look of defeat flashed on his face. “Fine.”

“There you go!” breathed Zela. She kicked a chair over to Makk, who slid it next to Silex and released his grip.

“Kid used to come here two or three times a week,” Silex said as he collapsed on the chair. He took out an old hanky and wrapped his wounded finger in it, still catching his breath. “Called himself ‘Redux’ or some dumb shit like that. Got piss drunk one night and told me all about his stupid hacks. I was going to report him. Got one of my regulars to follow him home one night. He’s working out of an abandoned robot factory in East Bedlam.”

“What a great citizen you are,” Makk said, his voice full of sarcasm. “The police didn’t do shit I bet?”

“I never got ‘round to reporting him. Kid found out.” Silex lifted his dirty shirt. “Left me with this.” Silex’s stomach was covered in small red pimples.

Makk recoiled. “What the hell is this?”

“Apparently, it’s called ‘chickenpox’. Itches like a mother.” Silex grimaced and dropped down his shirt. “He threatened to do this to my kids too if I talked.” He looked away, embarrassed. “You don’t want to fuck with this kid is all I’m saying.”

Smog lay low over the shore of East Bedlam, like an ominous gas monster enveloping the carcass of what was once a bustling factory sector. The silhouettes of collapsed buildings sprouted from the ground, swallowed at the top by the fog. A horrid stench permeated the air, wafting from the toxic river snaking through the area.

As soon as she stepped off the self-driving cab, Zela turned down her olfactive sense. “Bet you wish you had a Neuronex right about now,” she said, looking at Makk. He was covering the lower half of his face with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Still not worth messing with my perfectly good brain.”

“Sure, metal boy, you keep telling yourself that.”

Zela and Makk had been partners for almost a year after being paired up against their will by a client. The two had butted heads for most of the job, until they’d figured out that their strengths played perfectly off of each other.

Zela had one of the best Neuronexes on the market, but refused to get fitted with kinetic cyberwares after a botched job left her with a weakened shoulder. She’d always believed that focusing on her smarts, enhanced by the Neuronex’s capabilities, was all she needed to perform her job.

Makk, on the other hand, came from a family of organics who believed cyberwares were tools of the devil. Even though he had come a long way from the cult-like paranoia of his upbringing, he still refused to let anyone touch his brain.

However, he sure never minded taking advantage of Zela’s Neuronex whenever he could.

“Just do your little magic trick so we can figure out where this guy is,” Makk said.

Zela activated her scanning function, which allowed her to search for broken patterns in an area, such as recently disturbed soil or dust. After a few seconds, a trail appeared on her overlay, leading to one of the buildings in the distance.

Zela unholstered her gun. “I’m locked in on a trail. Let’s go.”

Makk took out his own weapon and followed her. “How dangerous do you think the kid is?”

“Dangerous? I don’t know. But he must be pretty dumb to infect one of the most powerful drug dealers in Nightdale.”

“I heard he gave him something called ‘strep throat’,” said Makk, chuckling. “Why the hell would he spend so much time figuring out how to hack Neuronexes just to give people Old World viruses? It makes no sense.”

Zela shrugged. “I don’t know, some kids are just bored.” She remembered hearing the story on the news a few weeks ago and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Pretty much all illnesses had been eradicated a long time ago, except for implant sickness—basically the body rejecting the cyberware. It rarely happened anymore.

“Hope you won’t catch anything with that cyber brain of yours,” said Makk. Zela noticed a hint of worry under his joking tone.

“I’ll be fine.” The trail ended in a gaping hole on the side of a half-collapsed building a few feet from them. “It’s right there, but there’s no one. My infrared sensors aren’t picking up anything. Let’s just have a look.”

“Do you think he heard us coming?”

Zela shook her head. “The trail is old. Maybe a week, according to dirt accumulations.” She stepped over a chunk of the broken wall. It looked like someone had blasted a bomb through it a long time ago, possibly the demolition team. The city had planned to turn the sector back into a habitable area after Zymek’s Industry had moved all their robot factories to Mars, but they’d given up halfway through when the mass exodus had started.

Most people who still lived on Earth preferred nicer, cleaner cities like Boston and New York.

Inside, the factory looked pretty much exactly like Zela had expected. Tables strewn about in various states of disrepair. Huge metal structures torn by rust. Random pieces of robots in piles here and there. The whole thing was covered in dust and dirt, except for a trail leading to a closed door at the back of the room.

“Do you think he could be camouflaging his thermal trace?” whispered Makk, drawing his weapon and holding it on his chest.

“Only one way to find out,” mumbled Zela. She positioned herself to the side of the door and gestured for Makk to kick the door open. Her partner nodded and sent a heavily enhanced kick just below the handle, sending the door flying forward.

Zela swiveled towards the opening, aiming her gun, but a blinding flash popped from somewhere in the room. She staggered, bringing a hand to her face in confusion.

“You alright?” asked Makk.

Zela blinked, her vision slowly coming back to life. Once she could finally see, she noticed that the letters on her overlay were distorted and illegible. “Yeah. I think it was a Neuronex scrambling device.” She restarted the program by pressing on a spot at the base of her skull. “Should be good as new in a few seconds.”

“Good thing there wasn’t anyone in here,” teased Makk. “Seems like your robot brain could have killed you.”

“Too bad, maybe you would have been useful for once. I know you’re dying to save me.”

“Sure, princess.”

The room they had uncovered was small, about the same size as Zela’s studio. Unlike the rest of the building, the space was in an almost perfect condition, as if it had been renovated. Everything was pristine and ventilated, with several monitors and computer docks arranged neatly on metal tables.

Makk roamed around the room. “Looks like this is where he was working on his virus.”

“See if you can find a computer, although I doubt he would have left one behind. I’ll snap pictures of anything that could clue us in on his location.”

A wave of fatigue hit Zela. She rolled her shoulders and lightly shook her head. The past few days had been tiring—trying to track down a hacker was never easy. Thankfully, finding his lair had just uncovered quite a bit of options to find him.

Zela snapped a few more pictures of the equipment, but there wasn’t much they could use. As she opened a desk drawer, a sharp prickle reached deep within her sinuses. She pushed the back of her hand against her nose, trying to relieve it, but it didn’t stop it from spreading.

Her head bobbed forward. “Hhh… Ihh—TSChh! TSChheew!”

“Bless you,” said Makk, briefly looking her way.

“Th—thanks… Ihh—TSSchh!”

Makk chuckled. “Is the dust getting to you?”

“Guess so.” Zela sniffled, surprised by how wet it sounded. Dust never really bothered her, although the entrance to the building was covered in thick layers of the stuff, so it made sense. She rubbed her nose and sniffed again for good measure. “I think I got everything. We’ll have to check in with Rob and see if he can pull up vids from the monitoring satellites.”

“Again? How many favors does the poor guy owe you?”

She flashed a smile. “Let’s just say his debt is impossible to repay.”

The next morning, Zela sat in their usual spot at the counter of Vixi’s Diner. Ever loyal to his chronic tardiness, Makk was thirty minutes late. Zela nursed a coffee she’d had refilled twice already by the waitbot.

Head cradled in her hand, she stared at the glitching holograms of the Old World’s waitresses milling about, conjuring images of nostalgia no one could even relate to. They stood behind the counter in their pink shirt-dress and their frilly white aprons, holding a paper pad that had long gone extinct. The place was a weird mix of neon lights and fading relics of the past, but it had always felt comforting to Zela for reasons she couldn’t understand.

However, that morning, nothing could really comfort her. She’d woken up with an annoying headache, a runny nose and creeping chills that had left her struggling with the temp regulator on her jacket. She was either slightly too cold or slightly too warm, which was downright annoying.

And she’d never sneezed so much in her entire life.

“Hhh… Hh—TSSCHhhh! ET’TSChhh!” Zela groaned, closing her eyes. It was pretty clear that whatever had scrambled her Neuronex at the factory had also introduced one of the kid’s dumb viruses. “Motherfucker,” she muttered to herself. Now she had a personal reason to go after that asshole. The client might have asked for him to be captured alive, but no one had said anything about a little beating.

“Hey beautiful,” said Makk as he slid on the stool next to Zela. His smiled dropped when he took a good look at her. “Woah. You don’t look so good.”

His alarmed expression made Zela chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s not implant sickness. I’m pretty sure I got infected with the kid’s virus.”

Makk narrowed his eyes and gently touched her face with the tip of his fingers. “This is so weird. How can a cyberware virus make your body react like it has an actual infection? Your skin is all pale and your nose is pink.”

Zela swatted his hand away. “It’s tricking my brain into thinking I’m infected, activating my immune system. These are just the effect of antibodies produced by my own damn body.” She sniffled, feeling the tickle in her nose growing stronger.

“Ehhh… Ihh—TSChhh!”

“Bless you,” said Makk, still looking concerned. “What virus is this even supposed to be? What are your symptoms?”

Zela grunted. “According to my research this morning, it’s probably a ‘rhinovirus.’ It’s a dumb thing people used to have often that didn’t do much harm. Just makes you feel run down with sneezing, sore throat, watery eyes, runny nose, chills, headaches.”

Makk frowned. “You should go home and rest. I’m sure I can convince Rob to pull those vids for you.”

“No way,” Zela said, sniffling. “You don’t have the brain power for that, muscle boy. Leave it to the pros.” She tapped the touch screen on the counter to bring up the menu. “Let’s eat. I want to catch Rob while he’s in a good mood. He’s one of those ‘morning person,’ if you can believe they exis—Ehh… Ihh—TSCCHhhh!”

“Bless you!” Makk shot her a pity look. “Man, people had it rough in the Old World.”

Zela pressed the back of her hand against her nose, irritated. This whole ‘appearing vulnerable’ thing wasn’t sitting well with her. “I’m fine. Just shut up and order your damn bacon.”

“Come on, Rob. It’s in East Bedlam, no one will even noti—Ehh’TSChhh!”

Zela’s head bobbed down as she aimed her sneeze away from Rob and Makk. They were in Rob’s secured man cave, surrounded by computers, their alternating flashing lights pulsating like a series of miniature hearts. The place was darker than the night, thanks to the metal walls painted black. Rob insisted that it made him feel safer when he hacked high profile systems. Like a “ninja in the shadows,” as he told anyone who would listen.

“Bless you,” said Makk, leaning on the desk next to Rob.

“What’s up with all the sneezing, Zee?” Rob stopped typing for a second to look up at Zela. “Are you broken or something?”

“I’m fine.”

Makk shook his head. “She’s got the kid’s new virus. Can you do anything about it?”

Rob sighed. “Nah man, I’ve been working on it all week. I haven’t figured out how to crack it yet. What did he give you? Strep? Sinusitis? Mononucleosis?”

“Rhinovirus.”

“Oh, whatever.” Rob rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. It’s the least offensive of them all.”

“See?” Zela said, looking pointedly at Makk and gesturing towards Rob. “Even he thinks it’s nothing.”

Makk shrugged. “You don’t look well to me. I still think you should go home and rest.”

“Guys, can you have your little domestic argument somewhere else? I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Zela crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the wall. The coldness of the metal on her neck sent chills through her body. She repressed a shiver as best as she could.

“Show us the vids and we’ll be out of your hair,” she mumbled.

“Zee, I can’t keep doing that. Every time I go back in, I risk getting found out. I’m sure there’s another way you can figure out where your guy is. That’s your actual job, you know.”

“Or,” said Zela, approaching Rob with a ruthless grin, “I can tell my sister about your little secret operation in here. I’m sure she would love to know that your remote job ‘with’ the government isn’t exactly sanctioned by the government itself.”

A look of recognition flashed in Makk’s face and he started laughing. “So that’s the unpayable favor?”

Rob grunted. “I should have never let her set me up with her sister. Now I’m on the hook for the rest of my life.” He turned towards Zela. “You’re a monster.”

Zela cocked her head. “I’m hurt. I gave you a lifetime of happiness with my amazing sister. Now pay up.” She walked to the back of the room where a worn leather sofa barely hung to life under piles of boxes and various devices. She managed to free up enough space for her tired body and snuggled in, folding her legs under herself.

Her head felt heavy and filled with cotton balls. Her nose was somehow runny and blocked at the same time, which made sniffling very difficult. She closed her eyes for a second, letting her head droop to the armrest.

Before she knew it, sleep swallowed her whole.

When she woke up, Makk was kneeling in front of her. “Here,” he said, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.

“Thanks,” Zela said, taking it. She sat upright and tried to shed the sleep from her brain. “Where did you get this?” She held the cup in both hands to warm up, even though her heat-regulated jacket should have done the job. Her body was a mess, as if it didn’t know how to act anymore. It wasn’t something Zela had ever experienced before.

“A convenience store nearby. Thought you could use it.”

Zela half-smiled, a curious tingling warmth filling her chest. She nodded towards Rob. “Is he done yet?” As she was about to take a sip of coffee, her nose rebelled. A sharp prick forced her head back as her breath hitched.

“Ihh—TSChhheew! ‘TSChhhh! Heh—Ihh’TSChhhh!”

“Bless you. I also got you this,” Makk said, presenting her with a soft, black handkerchief.

Zela blushed, but took it, as she could feel her nose running, threatening to embarrass her even more than accepting the gift itself. She wiped her nose quickly before shoving the handkerchief in her jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

Makk nodded with a smile. “Rob is done. He pulled the vids. Looks like the kid tried to cover his tracks but he’s not great with surveillance hacks. He took a cab from East Bedlam to an apartment in the north. We should be able to find him there.”

Zela pushed herself off the couch. “Let’s go.”

Makk put a hand on her arm. “Listen, are you sure you want to do this in your condition? This could get physical real quick. We don’t know if he has bodyguards or what kind of security he’s got. Maybe you should stay back and let me take care of this.”

Zela narrowed her eyes. “Makk, I swear to god, if you keep treating me like a frail little thing, I’m gonna break your neck in half.” Anger mixed with a touch of tenderness at his concerned expression. She bit her bottom lip, unable to reconcile the opposing emotions she was feeling. She sighed and softened her voice. “I’ll be fine, OK?” She put her hand on his. “Really.”

They waited until night to pounce. A cold rain had started falling, shrouding the streets in a thin fog. Zela used her Neuronex to get a floor plan of the building, and they devised a way to sneak into the building through the fire escape.

“Ready?” she whispered to Makk.

Makk nodded and waited for her to go up the metal stairs. She grabbed on to the railing but stopped abruptly, feeling a sneeze coming on.

“What’s wr—” started Makk behind her.

“Gonna sn—sneeze… Ehh’TSChhh! IHH—TSChhhew!”

“Make sure you get it all out of your system now,” said Makk, chuckling.

“Impossible. There are an infinite number of sneezes in this goddamn nose,” grumbled Zela before continuing her ascent.

When they got to the fifth floor, Zela peeked through the window. They had selected an empty apartment to minimize the risk of getting caught. “All clear,” she whispered. She used a special Neuronex program cooked up by Rob years ago that allowed her to deactivate the security on the window, then moved out of the way to let Makk cut the glass pane with his tools.

Once he was done, he looked at Zela. “All good?”

Zela sniffled and gave him the thumbs up before sliding through the opening. The small studio was completely empty and dark, illuminated only by the street lights shining through the windows. The pair walked up to the front door.

“H—hold on…” trailed Zela, holding a fist to her nose. “Hhh—KMPFFff!” She stifled her sneeze as much as possible, pinching her nose through her thumb and index finger. Her head throbbed for a few seconds, making her wince.

“You OK?” whispered Makk.

“Yeah.” She turned her attention back towards the door. “His apartment should be the one across the hallway.” Activating the heat sensor, she felt a flash of excitement when a bright orange and red silhouette appeared on her overlay. “We got him.”

“Any sensors out there?”

With a flick of the eyes, Zela used her Neuronex to check for a security system in the hallway. It identified a bunch of cameras and sensors, which she managed to deactivate fairly easily. “Should be clear now.”

They opened the door as quietly as possible, then slipped out, silent as cats. They each took a spot on either side of the door across the hallway. Makk gestured at Zela, something she interpreted as “should I break down the door?” She held up a hand, leaning towards the door. Turning up her enhanced auditive function, she held her breath and closed her eyes. All she heard were the sounds of tapping on a keyboard, and a faint synth music track, possibly coming from headphones the kid was wearing.

Suddenly, another tickle assaulted her nose, high up near the bridge. Her eyes grew wide, her breath hitching. Realizing what was happening, Makk’s face fell, panic written in the folds of his forehead. He grabbed the handkerchief from Zela’s pocket and gave it to her. Zela fumbled for it and covered her mouth and nose with it, trying her hardest to push the sneeze away. She pinched her nose hard through the fabric and stood there, hoping the feeling would pass.

Makk stared at her, raising an eyebrow. But the tickle wasn’t going away. Zela’s eyes watered and she shook her head as her breath hitched one final time. Before she knew it, Makk grabbed on to her and held her to his chest so that her face would be buried in his hoodie.

“Hhh—MPPFFKK!”

They both stood, unmoving. Zela could practically feel Makk’s heart pounding against her cheek. They waited for what felt like an eternity, but nothing stirred in the apartment next to them.

Zela relaxed and moved away from Makk, her face red. Yet as soon as the hallway light hit her eyes, a second, lightning-fast sneeze got away from her before she could even react.

“Ihh’TSCHHHHhh!”

This time, Zela heard the noise of a chair rolling on the floor in the apartment, then footsteps.

“Go, go, go!” she yelled, pointing at the door.

Makk immediately kicked the door down, his weapon drawn. He pounced on a human silhouette Zela barely had time to see. She rushed in after him, her gun drawn on the two guys brawling on the floor. She relaxed her finger from the trigger when she realized that the kid weighed about a third of Makk and looked like a twig. This was no contest.

Half a second later, the kid was pinned under Makk’s knee, breathing heavily, his face beet red.

Zela holstered her gun and rolled the computer chair closer to the kid. She sat down, sniffling. “Hey there, jerkface.”

The kid tried to spit on her, but he was too out of breath to do much more than puff out air from his chapped lips. Makk pressed down harder on his chest, and the kid grunted.

Zela chuckled, then wiggled her nose. “Ugh.” She prepared the handkerchief as a tickle burrowed in her nose. “Iihh’TSCHhhh! Ehhh—TSChhheew!”

“Bless you,” said Makk.

The kid started laughing. “I see you found my parting gift in the lab. Hope you’re fucking suffering.”

Zela wiped her nose, scoffing. “You’re a weird kid, you know that?” She took a good look at him. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen, maybe younger. A weak little thing that hadn’t seen the sunlight in years, judging by his pallor. Zela leaned back on the chair, frowning. “Why are you even doing this? Of all the viruses, you’re picking the dumbest ones that ever existed. Why not something really dangerous and fatal?”

The kid looked away. “I’m not here to kill people.”

“Then why are you even here?” asked Makk. “Why are you infecting some of the most dangerous people left on this shitty planet?”

“I wasn’t targeting the most dangerous people, just the ones with the most influence.” The kid shifted under Makk’s weight. “You people think you’re fucking immortal with your cyberwares. Look at you,” he said to Makk. “Does it make you feel good to hold me down like this with your fucking metal arms and legs? You think that makes you better than me?”

Zela rolled her eyes. Another organic on a cyberware rant. Of course.

The kid’s eyes darted back and forth between Makk and Zela. “You all think you’re gods. I’m here to show you that we’re all just as vulnerable as we used to be. If you keep implanting metal shit into your flesh, eventually someone will find the weaknesses and take you all out, and us with you.”

Makk shot a worried glance at Zela. She could tell the kid was bringing up memories of his upbringing, increasing his Neuronex paranoia.

“Well, thanks for making me feel shitty for a few days, I sure learned my lesson,” said Zela, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She kneeled down. “Wanna know my take on this? If it’s not this, it’ll be something else. Doesn’t mean we should stop progress.”

She stood up and pocketed the handkerchief. “The good thing is that you just helped us make implants even better. Good job finding the weakness, now we can make our cyberwares even stronger.” She gestured at Makk to release the kid. “It’s called ‘evolution.’ Look it up.”

Makk lifted the kid up on his feet. He turned to Zela. “Wanna get your revenge?”

Zela thought for a second, looking at the frail kid shaking next to Makk, who looked like a behemoth in comparison. “Nah. I just want to go home and sleep. Let’s get this organic trash to the client and call it a night.”

That evening, Zela laid on her couch, bundled up in a fuzzy blanket with her now trusty black handkerchief in hand. She watched the rain slide down in rivulets on the window, blurring out the city’s neon signs.

She’d brought the kid’s computer to Rob in the hopes that he could crack the viruses faster, but Rob had said that simply getting the data out of the computer would take days. Zela would just have to suffer through it until the virus ran its course. She couldn’t believe people used to do that in the Old World.

A knock at the door brought her out of her semi-comatose state. She checked the camera with her Neuronex. It was Makk, holding a grocery bag. She unlocked the door and yelled at him to come in. There was no way in hell she was getting up from her couch for the rest of the night.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” said Makk, removing his jacket and placing it on the kitchen table.

His tone would have bothered the hell out of Zela mere hours ago, but if she was honest with herself, she’d grown fond of his caring side. As much as the tougher part of herself wanted to fight to keep up with appearances, she was too tired to care about how vulnerable she looked right now.

She did feel vulnerable, after all. That’s one thing the kid had gotten right. And maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to feel vulnerable every once in a while to remember to be on her guards. But it didn’t have to be such a bad thing.

“I’m… doing pretty shitty,” she said with a hint of a smile, wiping her nose for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry to hear,” Makk said, sitting on the couch next to her. He put the grocery bag on the coffee table. “So, I did some research about this ‘rhinovirus’ thing. Apparently, it’s also called a ‘cold.’”

“That explains why I’m freezing.”

Makk scoffed. “Maybe you have a low-grade fever. They did say it was common.”

He scooted closer to her and put a hand on her forehead, then her cheek. Zela closed her eyes, her whole body humming from his tender touch.

“You do feel kind of warm,” he murmured. His eyes lingered on her for a few seconds until he moved back to the grocery bag. “Anyway, they said soup is supposed to help, so I got you some wonton soup. And some tea. They said to put honey in it, can you believe it?”

Zela raised her eyebrow. “Was everyone rich as hell in the Old World? Who can afford to buy honey just to dump it into a cup of tea.”

“I guess it wasn’t as rare back then,” he shrugged. “I just got you some sugar instead.” He plopped the box of tea and a bag of sugar on the coffee table. “Also, apparently everyone just wants to watch movies when they’re sick.”

Zela smiled. “Actually, that sounds pretty g—good… Ehh… Ihh—TSChhhh! HHh’TSCHhheew!”

“Bless you,” said Makk with a pout. “Why don’t I get this tea started to make you feel better, and then we can watch something. Your pick.”

“You know what I’m going to pick,” Zela said behind her handkerchief.

Makk stood up, rolling his eyes. “Whatever new horror movie just came out?”

“You got it.”

Zela grabbed the container of soup and sipped it, feeling the hot liquid warm her from the inside, soothing her throat. It was nice. People in the Old World were on to something.

She leaned back on the couch, savoring the quiet moment, looking forward to watching a movie with Makk. They never did take the time to do stuff like that, preferring to jump from job to job and keep busy.

She tinkered with the motor for a bit, then checked the infamous engine belt that she and her sisters had named Slacky Jack for its tendency to come loose during the hot summer months. Everything seemed to be in order, which meant bad news for Catherine. What she’d feared the most had come true: her battery had fought its last battle. Catherine cursed herself for not swapping it out before undertaking this road trip.

She wiped her greasy fingers on her shorts and slammed the hood shut, resting her hands on the cold metal for support. Stifling a cry of frustration, she clenched her teeth and let the rain sting her bare skin, soaking her tank top and jean shorts. Goosebumps rose on her arms as a chill shook her bones.

A tickle burrowed deep within her sinuses, taking her by surprise. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose firmly enough to squish her nostrils upward, but the itch overpowered her. Shielded by darkness and torrents of rain, Catherine let the sneezes consume her, bending at the waist as they escaped with urgency.

“EEH’TSSHIIOOOO! Ehh… IIIIIHH’TSHIOOO! ’TSSSHIIOOOO!!”

She shook her head, sending droplets of water back into the air, and took refuge inside the car. The door closed shut with a loud thunk, deadening the hissing sounds of the storm to a metallic drumming. She fished for her hoodie on the backseat, wondering why nobody had warned her that early summers in Northern California were so cold. And also that it could actually rain here.

Of all the times her hunk of metal had given up on accomplishing it’s sole purpose in life, this was the absolute worst. Her wallet and phone had been stolen while making a pit stop at a convenience store a few miles back. In the short time it had taken her to turn around and secure the nozzle back on the pump, a loitering teen nearby had rushed to the passenger door, opened it in a swing, grabbed her purse and ran. By the time Catherine had rounded the car towards the thief, the scumbag had jumped into the back of a pick-up truck and unceremoniously gave her the finger, a cloud of dust obscuring him as the truck sped off in a crunch of dirt.

All she had left were a few twenties hidden in the glove compartment, a granola bar and the beginning of a panic attack.

She looked out the window through the streaks of flowing droplets. The narrow road that lay ahead had been swallowed whole by darkness. She’d gotten a little lost after taking an exit promising a cheap motel, where she could regroup and call a friend or, more than likely, one of her sisters for help. But here she was now, no motel in sight, stuck on an old gravel road that probably no one ever used, surrounded by a thick forest. Who knew how long it would be before someone found her?

It’s alright, Catherine thought in the most calming tone she could muster, I’ll find a phone somewhere when the sun rises. I’m not stuck alone in the middle of nowhere, I’m just… temporarily disconnected. She lowered the back of her seat as much as she could and draped herself with the hoodie. Her long, damp hair stuck to her bare shoulders, sucking away any warmth her body produced.

All she could do now was try to sleep the night away.

* * *

A loud knock on the window woke Catherine with a start. Her heart pounding into her ears, she found herself staring at an older gentleman with a thick salt and pepper beard, smiling awkwardly at her behind the window. He looked like a typical fisherman: a worn fiddler cap on his head, a plump face damaged by the sun, a thin raincoat over a checkered shirt.

“Need help?” he said, his voice muffled by the glass separating them.

Catherine rubbed her eyes in an effort to wash away the sleep. Outside, the world was stuck in early-hour limbo, when darkness turns midnight blue. Wispy clouds bloomed across the sky, and trees surrounding the road still appeared as black as coal in the newborn dawn.

Catherine quickly rolled down the window, grateful that someone had stopped for her.

“Good morning,” she said as the cool morning breeze rushed into the car, raising goosebumps on her skin. Her voice cracked, and she noticed just how sore her throat was.

“Hello there,” said the man matter-of-factly. “I saw your car on my way to the docks. Thought I’d see if you’re out of fuel.” He bent down and produced a dirty jerrycan, sloshing it around to prove it wasn’t empty.

The pungent smell of gasoline infiltrated the car and hit Catherine square in the nose. Her eyes watered and a burning sensation blazed through her nostrils all the way up to the bridge of her nose. She ducked towards the passenger seat just in time to catch the sneezes in her elbow.

“EEH’TSHHIOOO! TSSHIOOO! Excuse me!”

“Bless’.”

“Thank you. I’m not out of fuel, but my car won’t start. I’m so glad you stopped by!” She extended her hand through the window. “I’m Catherine, by the way.”

The man shook her hand. “Arthur. Now let’s figure out what’s the matter with your clunker.”

* * *

An hour later, as the sun tried to pierce the thick fog that had rolled in, Catherine stood next to Arthur while he wrapped his jumper cables back into a tight knot, defeated.

“Your battery’s deader than a crane fly in a trout’s mouth.”

Catherine already knew, of course. They’d been trying to jump-start the battery for the last twenty minutes with no sign of resuscitation. She suspected that the connections were corroded as well. But hearing Arthur say it out loud made it official: Catherine was truly stranded. She’d have to run home with her tail between her legs, at the expense of her family. As always. She could already hear her sisters mocking her.

Shivering in the same shorts and tank top as the night before, Catherine zipped up her hoodie and pulled the hood over her head. The morning was almost as frosty as the night, and she regretted not packing a coat. As if on cue, she felt the characteristic, sudden burn of a sneeze spread through the back of her nose. Turning away from Arthur, who was too busy putting away the cables to notice her, she pulled the side of her hood loosely over her face as her breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Ehh… Eehhh… EHH’TSHHH! ‘TTSSHHIIOOO!”

“Bless’. Hope you’re not coming down with something. Got your hands full already.”

“God, I hope not,” Catherine said with a wet sniffle.

Arthur paused to look at her. “Not from around here are you?” He pointed at her shorts. “You need layers in the morning. Like this.” He pulled on the collar of his faded shirt, revealing another two layers of clothing underneath. He’d already shrugged off his raincoat, and beads of sweat pooled at his temples. A true West Coast native.

“I’ll take you to Lulu’s Diner,” he said. “Got a landline there.”

Catherine grabbed her luggage from the trunk of the Camry and lovingly patted the door as she closed it, resisting the urge to give it a vengeful kick. The car had been passed down, or rather dumped on, each of the three Miller sisters on their respective 16th birthday. Catherine had been the last one, and after six long years of driving it, she had grown accustomed to its quirks. She’d taken great care of it, restoring it after years of abuse from her sisters, which forced her to learn about car repairs and maintenance. But the Camry always found a way to let her down at the worst times.

“We’ll call a tow truck at Lulu’s,” said Arthur, gesturing for Catherine to join him in his truck.

As she sat on the squeaky passenger seat, the smell of wet fish and sea salt saturating the air around her, Catherine tried to convince herself that everything would be alright.

* * *

“I thought you were taking me to Lulu’s Diner?” Catherine asked as she exited the truck.

She stood outside an old brick building that had seen better days. Alone on the side of the road, it looked as if it had sprouted from the dusty ground underneath it. A few neat rows of cars flanked the restaurant, even though there were no delimitated parking spots.

But the sign over the large storefront window announced “Breakfast Bay,” although only a shadow of the “s” remained.

“People in town call it Lulu’s,” said Arthur as he held the front door for Catherine. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee floated out in the morning breeze.

“Is it the name of the owner?” Catherine asked as she entered, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer ambient light.

Arthur snickered, following her in. “Sort of.”

The sounds of sleepy chatter, spoons clanking in coffee mugs and the salty smell of sizzling bacon assaulted her senses. She looked around, surprised to see so many customers in such a desolate location. To reach this restaurant, Arthur and her had driven a good fifteen minutes on what Arthur had called the “main road,” with nothing but farms and trees dotting the landscape.

Was this the only breakfast dig in a thirty-mile radius, or did they serve such amazing food that it was worth the detour? Catherine instinctively reached for her purse to fish out her phone and check Yelp, but, of course, she had no purse. Or phone.

“Lulu!” shouted Arthur as he crammed his hat in his back pocket. A few heads turned in his direction, but there was no response. Arthur beckoned Catherine to follow him to the counter. “Must be stuck in the kitchen. Been pretty busy around here these days.”

Catherine took a seat on one of the reddish-brown vinyl stools and looked around. The décor appeared fairly minimalist, with white-painted walls and a dozen square wooden tables, the cheap kind that first-time restaurant owners seemed to favor. A few brightly colored posters adorned the walls: stylized drawings of cacti, hot peppers and palm trees.

“’Morning Arthur,” muttered a woman in her 60s standing behind the counter, a steaming pot of coffee in hand. She slid a mug in front of Arthur and filled it with amber liquid, leaving room for cream. “Who’s that?” she asked in a glacial tone, nodding towards Catherine.

Feeling a feathery tickle at the back of her nose, Catherine fixed her eyes on the counter, trying her best to keep any sneeze at bay. Her nose twitched, raising slightly at the corner of her left nostril. She bit her tongue and closed her eyes.

“Her name’s Catherine,” said Arthur while dumping sugar in his mug directly from the glass pourer. “Her car broke down on Malbea Drive.”

Catherine’s breath caught in her throat as she tried to stop it from hitching. She teetered on the verge of the impeding sneeze, hoping her nose would behave and shoo away the burn. But suddenly, she gasped and tipped her head back, then quickly burrowed her face into her elbow, turning as far to her side as she could.

“EEH’TSHIIOOOO! Hhh… Ehhxcu… Ex—Ehh… EEH’TSHIOOOO! Excuse me.”

A man’s voice from the kitchen growled a “bless you,” to the amusement of Arthur, who chuckled behind his raised mug.

“Yeah, well tell your friend to stop sneezing all over my counter,” said the server with a scowl before walking towards a nearby table. “And you,” she yelled towards the kitchen doorway as she passed it, “stop blessing everyone.”

Embarrassment and anger flared red on Catherine’s cheeks. “Is the service always this friendly around here?”

“Mabel’s like that with everyone. Got a heart made of ice.” Arthur took a sip of his coffee and glanced towards the kitchen. “Lulu’s a bit friendlier.”

A man wearing a dirty apron walked in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “What are you mumbling about me, old man?” His dark brown eyes glanced towards Catherine, then back to Arthur.

“Wait, you’re Lulu?” asked Catherine, unable to hide the surprise in her tone. The man looked like he was in his early thirties, built like a fridge with a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm.

“My name is Luis. Luis Chavez. Some people call me Lulu.” He slung the towel over his shoulder. “Anyway, I’m very busy as you can see, so tell me what you need in as little words as possible.”

The back of Catherine’s neck prickled in protest at his dismissive tone. Her mother had instilled in her a natural politeness towards strangers. Although Catherine didn’t expect everyone she met to offer her a hug and a piece of homemade cherry pie, she had hoped for a warmer welcome from small-town America. Regardless, what kind of business thrived on treating their customers like Mabel and Luis did?

Before Catherine could explain her situation to Luis, Arthur mumbled a quick: “Car’s dead near the Walton’s farm and got her stuff stolen. Came here to ask if she can use your phone.”

Luis frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Mabel’s voice rising above the restaurant chatter. She was yelling at a disgruntled customer, suggesting a very unsavory place where he could stick the breakfast he was complaining about.

“Shit, I better take care of that,” said Luis, rushing towards the scene. “The phone’s in the back office down the hall,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Catherine, dumbfounded, looked at Arthur.

The old man shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “Welcome to Lulu’s Diner.”

* * *

The office was a mess. Piles of open letters and cash-out reports littered the desk in the center of the tiny, windowless room. Catherine maneuvered around stacks of boxes filled with napkins, rolls of receipt paper and other non-edible necessities for the diner. She spotted a phone cord on the ground and followed it until she located the device next to the computer monitor, hidden underneath an order form.

She sat down on the office chair and took a moment to compose herself. It was soothingly quiet and warm in the room, and Catherine wanted to savor it. Who knew when another whirlwind of bad luck would pounce on her as she struggled to get out of this mess?

Catherine was adamant that she had been cursed when she was younger. Beyond her usual clumsiness, she always seemed to find trouble in even the safest situations. Her specialty was to string a few complications that would domino into a proper catastrophe. Case in point: she’d recently lost her job because she’d accidentally left the window to her bedroom open during a storm, which had caused her phone charger to short due to water dripping on it, which had killed her phone, which meant that her alarm hadn’t rung, and because she’d woken up late, she’d ran to her car half-awake and had dropped her keys in a storm drain. She’d shown up to work so late that they’d fired her, mostly because she’d had many previous strikes caused by similar situations.

Her family called her the Queen of Bad Lucks, and sometimes Cathastrophe. She hated that name.

Catherine leaned back on the chair and pressed two fingers on either side of her head to massage her temples. She’d had a nagging headache since waking up, and her throat still bothered her. At this point, it could no longer be attributed to “morning dryness” or thirst. She was definitely coming down with something.

Of course she was.

She tested her nose by attempting to draw a quick breath through it, and noticed some congestion. Her sinuses protested with a sharp tickle that caused Catherine to mutter a “oh!” of surprise. Her eyes watered under the assault, and she clamped her nostrils shut between her thumb and index finger.

It seemed to keep the tickle at bay for about five seconds, but it came back with a vengeance, this time even deeper and sharper than before. Knowing there was no way she would win the fight, Catherine aimed loosely towards her elbow and gave in to the sneezes.

“EHH’TSCHHHIIIIIOOOOO!! Ehh… IIHH’TSCHIIIOOOOO!” Catherine gasped, her lungs filling to capacity once more as another sneeze overtook her. “’TSSCHIIIIIIIOOOOO!”

She groaned, knowing her moment of peace had ended.

If she wanted to call her family, it was now or never. The last time she’d seen them had been last Sunday, and they’d gotten into a big fight during their weekly family dinner. It was humiliating enough to ask for help after storming off; she didn’t need to sound vulnerable and sick on top of it. This cold was only going to get worse from here.

She briefly considered calling her parents, but they’d worry too much. Anna, the middle sister, tended to sympathize more with Catherine than their older sister Lauren. But Anna was pregnant with her first child. It seemed selfish to spring this stressful situation on her.

Catherine took a deep breath, hummed to test her voice, then dialed Lauren’s cellphone number.

“Lauren Miller.”

That was Lauren’s “professional” greeting when answering a phone call from an unrecognized number. Her icy and irritated tone sent a chill up Catherine’s spine.

“Hey Lauren, it’s Cath.”

“Oh, hey Cath. Wait, why are you calling from…” Shuffling noises echoed through the receiver, presumably as Lauren checked the caller ID on her cellphone. “Breakfast Bay? What the hell is that?”

Catherine hadn’t yet told anyone that she’d abruptly left on a road trip after their fight. Hoping to explain the situation in a gradual way instead of starting with “I’m about 2,000 miles away from Illinois right now…,” Catherine ignored the question.

“Listen, I—“

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” interrupted Lauren, as per usual. “You were really mad when you left, and I just want you to know that we mean well.”

“I know Laur, but right now—“

“It’s just frustrating to see you throw away your life like that and expect everyone to fix your problems.”

Catherine’s entire body stiffened at the words. “Yeah, you made it very clear during dinner. But I’m calling because—“

“As the baby of the family, maybe you feel like you get a pass because mom and dad spoiled you so much growing up, but at some point, Catherine, you will need to take your responsibilities and become a self-sufficient adult. You’re 23, not 13.”

Catherine’s blood boiled. She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to yell obscenities at her sister. The heat rushing to her face seemed to set off a new tickle in her nose, and she cursed the rhinovirus gods and their torturous humor.

“Mom was very sad that you left so early,” continued Lauren, unaware of the battle going on between Catherine and her sinuses. “She and dad just want you to be happy. They hope you can settle down, build yourself a nice life and have a family, just like me and Anna.”

Catherine fought her hitching breath, feeling the sneezes rushing through the length of her nose with an unbearable prickle. Her eyes half closed, she frantically pressed buttons on the phone, hoping to find the “hold” or “mute” option, but only managed to produce a deafening touchtone by accidentally pressing a few numbers.

“Ow! What are you doing? Hello?”

“Sorry I—Ehh… Hhh!… I accident... Ehhh... accidentally hit the n—numbehhh…” There was no escaping it. Catherine pressed her hand over the transmitter and bent to the side. She tried to stifle her sneezes, but her cold sneezes were always so strong that they escaped any sort of effort to contain them. “IIHH’NNNTGXXSCHIIIOOOO! EHH’NNTTXXSCHIOOOO!! NNNTGX’SSCHIIOOOO!”

Catherine kept her eyes closed, defeated and dizzy from trying to hold back the sneezes for so long. She rested her elbow on the desk and leaned her forehead into her hand, putting the handset back to her ear.

“Is this why you’re calling me? Catherine, you know you can order cold medicine online nowadays. I’m not going to drive all the way to your apartment for a box of Nyquil.”

“You know what Lauren?” Catherine said through gritted teeth, her voice already showing signs of congestion. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll figure it out on my own. Screw you and your perfect little life.”

She slammed the phone down and leaned back, the chair creaking under the effort. She covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry. You can do this. You can figure this out. Think.

Luis stormed into the office, startling Catherine into an upright position. He stopped in his track and stared at her, as if he’d forgotten who she was.

“Didn’t know you were still here,” he grumbled, turning around to grab a receipt roll from one of the boxes.

That’s it! thought Catherine.

“Luis, you need to hire me,” she blurted.

Luis, still bent over a box, shot her a glance over his shoulder. “What now?”

“Hire me as a waitress. I’m a hard-working, polite and friendly woman. You need someone like me in your restaurant.”

“Are you saying that I should fire Mabel and hire you instead?”

“Well, not exactly but… I can definitely do a better job than her.”

Luis walked towards Catherine, throwing a paper roll from hand to hand. He seemed amused by the turn of events. “Do you have any experience?”

“Yes. I worked at a Chili’s, a McDonald’s, an Applebee's, a Korean restaurant near—“

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted her, already losing interest. “You’re hired. You start now.”

Catherine rose from the chair, a huge grin etched on her face.

Luis swept the room with his free hand. “Your first job is to find the employment form somewhere in this office and fill it out.”

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Catherine slipped a ten-dollar bill into the deep pocket of her apron, a tip that her last lovely customer had left for her, along with a heartfelt “good luck!” scribbled on the check.

As it turned out, Luis’ diner was the only restaurant in a small village called Sequoia Bay. So far, every townie that had come through had been starved for details about Catherine’s story. Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Was she going to move into town? It was now five o’clock at night, and Catherine had recounted her misadventure a good dozen times since the morning. Most of the regulars had left a generous tip to help her out.

Catherine cleared the table, trying her hardest not to focus on her aches and pains. Her throat felt raw, as if she’d swallowed the green, prickly cactus adorning the wall in front of her. Her sinuses were throbbing, and she’d fought a tickle for the past four hours. Thanks to adrenaline and the fear of getting fired or sent “home” by Luis, she’d been able to stave off most of the sneezes, only releasing a few in the bathroom, far away from her boss. She’d been diligently washing her hands and not touching her nose, carrying the food carefully as to not breathe on it.

“Order up!” yelled Luis from the kitchen.

Catherine quickly dropped off the dirty plates in the kitchen sink, then walked back around to grab the enchiladas from the kitchen window ledge. The restaurant was filling up again for the dinner service, and Catherine absentmindedly watched customers file in. She had begun to notice that the majority of customers weren’t townies. It was obvious by their demeanor and the amount of questions they’d ask her.

“It’s amazing the amount of people coming to your restaurant from other towns,” mused Catherine as Luis worked the grill. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” said Luis distractedly.

“Get the word out. I mean, all these people probably drove over thirty minutes to get here. Is it like that every day?”

Luis looked up and stared at Catherine through the kitchen window. “You don’t think my food is worth it?”

“N—no it’s not that, I mean yes I think your food is delicious but—“

Luis chuckled, crow’s feet creasing at the corner of his eyes for a split second, then back to his serious, cold stare. “They’re filming a movie a few miles from here.” He pointed at the tables full of customers with his wooden spatula without looking, his eyes fixed on a sizzling piece of beef. “They’re all part of the crew.”

“The caterers gave them food poisoning on the first night,” mumbled Mabel as she yanked the plate of enchiladas out of Catherine’s hand. “So these assholes have been invading the diner and complaining about everything. Buncha pricks.”

“Mabel, watch it,” growled Luis. “If I see you start a fight with another customer, Catherine will be replacing you. Permanently.”

Mabel scoffed, giving her signature dirty look to Catherine. “This little twig wouldn’t survive a week in here without me.” She whipped around, the enchiladas sliding dangerously close to the edge of the plate, and stormed off.

Catherine rolled her eyes and sniffled, feeling the tickle twinge in the back of her nose. Thinking it would eventually subside again, leaving her with congestion instead, she didn’t worry too much and started heading towards a table of customers ready to order.

“Wait, Catherine, can you get something for me?” asked Luis in an irritated tone. He added almost to himself, “I forgot the damn can of tomatoes again.”

“Sure.”

Catherine walked into the brightly lit kitchen and gasped. The tickle exploded in her nose, sending a shiver down her neck. She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes from squinting. Her breath caught in her throat and she panicked, knowing that Luis stood only a few feet from her.

“They’re in the pantry,” Luis said, his back to her. “Big cans of stewed tomatoes. I just need one.”

Catherine pressed a knuckle under her nose and located the “pantry,” a small alcove at the end of the kitchen, behind the commercial walk-in fridge. She rushed towards it, passing a few metal shelves filled with cooking utensils. Once she was safely hidden from view in the corner, she realized that hiding wouldn’t be enough. Luis would still hear her.

On the brink of sneezing, as she tilted her head back, her chest rising with a final breath, Catherine fumbled around blindly on the shelf looking for something to make a noise. She gripped a stack of large stainless steel mixing bowls just as she bent down to sneeze, throwing them on the ground in a loud cacophony of clanging metal.

“EHH’TSSSHHHIIIIIOOOOO!! IIHH’TSSHHHHIIIOOOOO!”

The bowls rolled around long enough to cover both of her sneezes, but Luis rushed to the alcove just as Catherine was straightening up, giving her no time to recuperate.

“Shit,” he said as he placed his foot on the smallest bowl still rolling on the ground, restoring a semblance of silence. He looked at Catherine with steely eyes. “You OK?”

Catherine nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Sorry, boss.” In hindsight, this hadn’t been the greatest idea. She’d successfully hidden her sneezes from Luis, but now looked like an incompetent waitress who couldn’t even grab a can of tomatoes without causing chaos.

She braced for the storm.

Luis sighed and bent down to retrieve the bowls. “Just bring the can over to my station.” The coldness of his voice threatened to freeze the air around them. Without another glance towards Catherine, Luis turned around and dumped the bowls in the sink before walking back to his grill.

Catherine relaxed a little. It could have been worse. At least for once in her life, she hadn’t accidentally caused a mess.

She chose to see it as a victory.

* * *

“You’ll take the afternoon shift,” said Luis as he locked up the restaurant, Catherine standing outside beside him. “Mabel has the morning shift and leaves at 3 pm. Come in at 2 pm until close to give us an hour overlap.”

Through the window, Catherine could still make out the large clock over the kitchen in the darkened restaurant. It was 10:20 pm, and she was exhausted. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her sinuses like cement, and her nose had started to run a little. But in spite of her state, Catherine hadn’t done such a terrible job. Sure, she’d dropped a couple of plates and mixed up a few orders, but considering Catherine’s history, this constituted a “good day.” And since it was her first day, she hoped the boss would see it as beginner’s jitters and give her a break.

Luis pocketed the keys and glanced at her. “Sorry for the long shift today. I’ll pay you for the overtime.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I really need the money.” She turned her head towards her Camry, sitting in the parking lot like an abandoned wreck. Arthur’s mechanic had towed it there in the afternoon, along with an estimate of the cost to replace the battery. “Actually,” said Catherine, “if you need me in the morning too, I’d be happy to come in for a full-day shift.”

She instantly regretted her suggestion, but she was eager to get back on the road and prove her worth. So what if she had to work twelve-hour shifts for a week? Her replacement credit card wouldn’t arrive for another six to ten days anyway. The bank would send it to the diner’s address, so Catherine had to stick around no matter what. Plus, she’d fantasized all day about calling her family once everything was resolved, imagining herself explain how she’d gotten herself out of this mess alone. Having to work long hours on her feet added a challenge that would surely garner even more sympathy and awe from them. “You worked eighty hours in a week to pay for your car repairs?” she could hear them say. “How could we even doubt your commitment and capabilities as an adult?”

Obviously they wouldn’t say it like that, but they would totally think it.

“You sure you want to work that much?” asked Luis with a smirk. “You might regret it in a few days.”

“Isn’t this what you do every day, six days a week?” said Catherine, shivering from the cold night breeze.

“Seven. We’re open on Sunday too.” He started walking towards the back of the restaurant, in the opposite direction to the parking lot. “If you think you can handle it, I can use your help.”

Catherine’s eye twitched. “Of course I can handle it.” Her own confident tone surprised her.

“See you tomorrow at 7 am then,” Luis said without turning around, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

Catherine watched him go, confused. “Where are you going?” she shouted towards the night.

“Home,” his voice echoed in the silence.

Still standing under the safety of the diner’s porch light, Catherine listened to the moths fling their bodies on the bulb, watching their tiny shadows dance at her feet. Maybe Luis had forgotten that her car was broken, or assumed it had been repaired during the day. She looked back towards the spot where he’d disappear, wondering if she should run after him and ask for a ride to a motel.

She shook her head. No, she would do this alone. Plus, the only money she had was the tip she’d earn for the day. She fished the bills from her apron pockets and counted. Looking up, she made a quick calculation, mumbling numbers under her breath. She wouldn’t get her first paycheck until the end of the week, but with the tip she was earning, she’d be able to fix up her car in about three days. Then, she’d wait for her credit card, get a nice cash cushion for the rest of the trip, and get the hell out of here.

In the meantime, sleeping in her car seemed like the best idea.

Catherine walked to the Camry, darkness swallowing her as she left the only bubble of light in the vicinity. She rubbed at her tickly nose, sniffling wetly. She opened her trunk, unzipped her luggage and pulled out the only pair of jeans and two sweaters that she’d brought along, thankful that she’d thrown clothing haphazardly in her bag before she’d left her apartment. “Organized” Catherine, if there even was such a thing, wouldn’t have planned to bring anything warm on a summer road trip.

The tickle in her nose increased, and as she slammed the trunk shut, she launched forward in a fit of sneezes, holding onto the car for support.

“Ehh… EH’TTSSHHIOOOOOO! ‘TTSSHIIIOO!”

She sniffled and looked around, then quickly changed into her jeans and one of the sweaters, keeping the other one under her arm. The tickle in her nose still bothered her as she unlocked the door to her car and lied down on the back seat, using her second sweater as a makeshift blanket.

She took a deep, quivering breath.

“EHH’TSHIIOOOOOO! God daahhh… hhh… damniiiih… IIH’TSSHIIOOOO! Ugh!”

Catherine fished a few napkins from the center console and blew her nose, surprised at how runny it had suddenly become. She groaned and let herself fall back on the seat.

Hiding this damn cold from Luis might turn out to be a tad more difficult than she’d hoped.

* * *

“IIHH’NNNGTXXSSSHIIIOOOO! EHH’NNTTXXSHHHIOOOO!”

Catherine’s sneezes echoed in the empty bathroom of the diner. She blew her nose and leaned towards the mirror to inspect her chapped nostrils. It wasn’t a pretty sight—all red and irritated from the rough toilet paper and napkins she’d been using all morning.

She bent down to retrieve her makeup bag hidden under the sink and twisted open the cap of the concealer. But even lightly patting a concealer-covered finger around her nostrils was enough to set off another irresistible itch.

“M—my goohhh… god—Hhh! EHH’TSSSHIIIIOOOO! IHH’TSSSSHHHIIOOOOO!”

Rolling her eyes, she dabbed a wad of toilet paper around her nose, careful not to remove too much makeup.

It was only 10 am, and she’d already ran to the bathroom to sneeze about four times. Thankfully, the bathroom sat at the other end of the diner, as far away from the kitchen—and Luis—as possible.

“Where did Catherine go again?” Mabel yelled, her screechy voice traveling through the door.

Catherine zipped up her makeup bag and threw it under the sink, then washed her hands in hot water, soaping up to her elbows and rubbing vigorously. The skin on her hands had turned red from washing them so much.

“I’m here,” Catherine said as she came out.

“You better start working like you mean it if you’re after my job,” hissed Mabel as she walked passed her, a tray filled with glasses of water.

Catherine ignored her and concentrated on clearing tables and bringing menus to new customers. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the cloud of negativity emanating from Mabel. Only four hours until the end of the old harpy’s shift, she thought. Dealing with the dinner rush alone was better than having to hear Mabel’s complaints and feeling her murderous glare boring a hole through her back.

When the jingle of the door bells announced a new customer, Catherine was relieved to see a friendly face: Arthur. He walked up to the counter where she was pouring a fresh batch of coffee into her pot.

“’Morning,” he said, his cheeks kissed red from the sun.

“Good morning!” Catherine smiled, sliding a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. “I know I’ve said it a million times, but thank you for your help yesterday. I owe you a lot.”

Arthur nodded and tipped his hat down. “It was nothing. Anybody would have done the same.”

Catherine eyed Mabel and snickered. “Still. I don’t know h—ehh… how I would ha—hhh—ve…”

A tickle seized Catherine’s sinuses abruptly. She scrunched up her nose, fighting an intense need to rub the itch away with her hand. Prickles covered the inside of her nose like a rushing sea wave, so unbearable that a shiver wracked her body.

“You alright?” asked Arthur, eyeing her curiously.

Catherine tried to control her breathing, avoiding any sudden movement or intake of air that could set off the sneeze. “Yehh—yep I’m fiiihhne.”

Finally, after a few torturous seconds, the tickle receded to a manageable background annoyance. Catherine breathed out, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. She turned her attention back to Arthur. “Can I get you anything to eat?” As the words escaped her mouth, she winced at how congested she now sounded.

And apparently, Arthur had noticed. “That cold of yours got worse,” he stated.

Catherine shushed him, turning towards the kitchen window to see if Luis had heard. Thankfully, the boss seemed completely concentrated on his task, surrounded by sizzling eggs, bacon and sausages.

“What are you shushing me for?” asked Arthur with a smirk.

Catherine blushed, grabbing a notepad and pen from her apron in an effort to look nonchalant. “I just don’t want Luis to know. So, what can I get you?”

“Fisherman’s breakfast, over easy, white bread with extra butter. Don’t know why you’re afraid of Luis knowing you have a c—“

“SShhh!” Catherine leaned over the counter towards Arthur and lowered her voice to an almost whisper. “I don’t want to get sent… ‘home’ I guess. Or fired. I need—“

“What are you two whispering about over there?” asked Mabel as she approached the counter, crossing her arms. “You plotting against me? After all these years Arthur, I can’t believe you’d be in on this.”

Arthur raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, but I ain’t got anything to do with anything.” He shook his head and got up. “I’ll be having my breakfast over there, Catherine,” he pointed to a table near the front window and shuffled over to it, eager to get away.

“See what you’ve done now?” tutted Mabel before snatching the pot of coffee out of Catherine’s hand and tending to her customers.

Catherine closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub them or press her fingers on her sinuses to relieve the pressure. All she wanted right now was to be back home in her tiny apartment, cuddled under her blanket with a cheesy movie, sipping hot chamomile tea and feeling sorry for herself.

Her enthusiasm towards fixing this disaster without help wavered. Why did she always end up in situations like these? Once, during a brunch with her sisters, Catherine had complained about her curse, asking what she’d done to the world to deserve so much bad karma, and Lauren had told her to stop believing that she was only a victim. “It’s simple causality,” she’d said. “Whatever happens to you isn’t some kind of supernatural bad luck. YOU are causing these events. YOU are responsible.”

Catherine often pondered Lauren’s claim. She wasn’t wrong. Hadn’t Catherine left on a road trip without replacing the battery, even though she knew it was old? She had left her purse on the passenger seat without locking the doors while she filled up at the gas station. She’d slept in her wet clothes, in the cold after getting stranded on the side of the road. It was all her fault, and maybe she deserved this. Maybe she deserved all the bad luck because she kept making poor decisions.

Luis’ voice pierced through Catherine’s musings. “Catherine!”

She jumped and turned towards the kitchen window. Luis was staring at her with stern eyes, as if he’d been calling her name for a while.

“Sorry!” she said, rushing to join him in the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to start plating the desserts yourself.” He expertly flipped a few eggs, then pointed at the fridge behind him with the spatula. “Pies and cakes are in the fridge. Just cut a piece, put it on the plate, take the bag of whipped cream and pipe some on the side, a few shavings of chocolate on top—from the container next to the whipped cream. Ice cream is in the freezer in the back of the fridge. Got it?”

Catherine nodded, committing everything to memory.

“Good. Table three wants a peach pie, no ice cream.”

“Peach pie, coming up.”

Catherine pulled on the heavy door of the walk-in fridge. Cold air rushed around her, blowing a few strands of her hair away. She shivered, walking in the frosty cubicle and headed straight for a shelf filled with deliciously glazed fruit pies. She admired the handy work, her stomach rumbling. She’d picked at a couple of toasts and eggs that Luis had prepared for her at 7 am, but hadn’t been feeling hungry enough to eat much of it. Pies, however, Catherine could always eat.

She grabbed a peach pie with one hand, then balanced the whipped cream bag on the chocolate shaving container in her other hand, miraculously carrying everything to the island in the center of the kitchen without dropping it. She then sliced a generous portion of the glistening pie and delicately placed it in the center of a dessert plate.

“My god, it looks so good,” she mumbled to herself.

“Thanks,” said Luis, still working at the grilling plate, his back to Catherine.

“Wait, you made all these pies yourself? I thought you got them from a bakery or something.”

Luis chuckled. “I make them fresh every morning.”

“Geez.” Catherine raised her eyebrows. “When do you ever sleep?” She picked up the piping bag and hovered nervously over the plate. She’d never piped whipped cream in her life, or even baked anything, unless dropping a few Toaster Strudel in the toaster counted. And even then, she always messed up the icing, giving up halfway through and squeezing out the rest of it one messy blob.

“Want me to show you?” asked Luis, wiping his hands on his apron.

Catherine bit her lip, not daring to admit that she needed help.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the bag. Catherine relented, giving him the whipped cream and stepping aside. She watched him twist the top with one hand and guide the tip with the other in a graceful, quick swirl. “The key is to apply pressure at the top, but be gentle.” He pushed aside the pie and grabbed a clean plate, then repeated the procedure to show her. “Like this. Now you try.”

Catherine grabbed the piping bag, her hand brushing up against Luis’. She could feel his warmth against her arm as they stood close to each other. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing that he’d be watching her closely. With her luck, she’d press too hard and whipped cream would fly everywhere, then Luis would slip on it and break his leg. And then fire her.

“Come on, try it.” His voice wasn’t gentle, but still a lot nicer than usual, which made Catherine feel a little better. She took a deep breath through her nose, forgetting her cold. As soon as she heard the congestion, she stopped, hoping Luis hadn’t heard. She glanced sideways at him, but he was still watching the plate, waiting for her to give it a try. She bit her lip and twisted the top, then applied pressure and guided the flow of whipped cream over the plate.

“Could be worse,” Luis said. “Try again. Rounder this time.”

Catherine smiled. This was actually fun! She looked at her mound of whipped cream, which was narrow and crooked, but much better than she’d expected.

As she twisted the top again, she felt a familiar prickle in her nose. She gasped, panicked. The tickle traveled fast and it soon felt like tiny fireworks exploding in her sinuses. She backed away from the plate, the piping bag still in her hands. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to devise a plan, but the sneezes were coming hard and fast.

“Hurry up, I gotta go back to my eggs,” said Luis impatiently.

“Uhmm, I—hhh… I f—forgot tooohh… hehhh… H—Hold on…”

She shoved the bag into Luis’ hands and turned around, feeling her eyes close as her body prepared for the sneezes. She grabbed the fridge’s handle and pulled, rushing inside and letting the heavy door close behind her. It made a suction sound as it sealed behind her, and Catherine hoped it would be enough to contain the sounds. The cold air tipped her over the edge, and she buried her face in her sweater’s sleeve, trying her hardest to muffle the release.

“EEH’GNNXXXSHIIOOOO! Hhh… IHH’GNNXXXSHIIIIIOOO!”

When she heard the door open behind her, Catherine quickly straightened up and made herself look busy.

“What are you doing?”

Catherine turned around. Luis stood in the doorway, looking confused.

“Oh I… I was just looking for the…” She twisted her head around trying to locate something she might have forgotten. “The chocolate shavings! I forgot the chocolate shavings.”

Luis gave her a puzzled look. “It’s on the island. You brought it out with the rest of the stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah. I did.” She sidestepped him to get out of the fridge, grabbing the container of chocolate shavings from the counter. “There it is.”

“Right.” Luis scrutinized her without saying anything. After a long, awkward moment, he finally walked back to his grilling plate. “Just get the pie to table three.”

Catherine closed her eyes, mortified. She grabbed the dessert and walked back to the dining area, humiliation seeping into her bones, as cold as dread.

This day would never end.

* * *

At around 3:30 pm, a lull settled in the restaurant. The afternoon sun soaked the floor of the empty diner, coloring everything in a orange hue. Catherine sat at a table with a dozen sugar dispensers in front of her, consolidating them and topping them off.

Mabel had ended her shift an hour and a half ago. Luis was holed up in his office, making calls. Catherine could finally breathe easy. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes, grimacing in pain as she stretched her legs and rolled her ankles around. She finally allowed herself to massage her temples, knowing no one could see her. If only she’d had a working car, she could have swung by a convenience store or—more likely in this small town—a general store for some ibuprofen and cold medicine. Alas, she was stuck in the diner for another few days.

She resumed pouring sugar in the dispensers, mesmerized by the soft rustling sound of sugar crystals pooling in the center of the glass jar, like a miniature sand dune.

When she felt a tickle, she let it wash over her, riding the burning sensation as it tipped her head back in a gasping breath. She caught the harsh, exhausted sneeze into her elbow.

“EHH’TTSSCHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

Panic seized Catherine at the throat, strangling the tiny gasp that escaped her mouth. She turned around to see Luis standing next to her with a plate. He pushed a few of the sugar dispensers away and placed the plate down in front of Catherine. It was a slice of his peach pie.

“You barely ate anything at lunch,” he said in his customary gruffy tone. “You need to eat something if you want to last all day.”

A small “thank you” was all Catherine could muster.

“I’ll be in the kitchen prepping for the dinner rush,” Luis said before walking away.

Catherine waited until he disappeared into the kitchen, embarrassment dripping down her back like a cold sweat. She’d worked so hard all day to hide her sneezes from Luis, and the one time she’d assumed she was safe…

But it was only one sneeze, she thought. People sneeze all the time! Luis probably didn’t think anything of it.

She glanced at the slice of pie sitting in front of her. That would certainly make everything better.

Catherine closed her eyes as the first bite hit her tongue. The delicate, refreshing flavor of the glazed peach mixed with the crunch of the buttery crust instantly uplifted her mood. It sent her back in time when, at 14 years old, she’d spent a summer in Georgia at her best friend’s grandma’s house. Every night, they would eat a piece of homemade peach pie on the porch, watching the sun set over the orchard.

It was one of Catherine’s most peaceful memory. It had been a blissful summer, without so much as a snag, as if her curse had been lifted for a magical month of her life.

Catherine brought the empty plate back to the kitchen, adding it to the overflowing pile of dishes in the sink. Luis was busy chopping veggies on the island, his knife hitting the wooden board in a sharp staccato.

“My compliments to the chef,” she said with a smile. “It was delicious.”

Luis nodded without looking up, concentrating on the movement of his hands. Catherine stood awkwardly in front of the sink watching him, waiting for him to engage in conversation in some ways, even though she knew it wouldn’t happen. She’d only been there for two days, but Luis’ withdrawn personality stood out like a sore thumb. It was hard not to take it personally.

Turning on the hot water tap, she set about filling the dishwasher. It wasn’t exactly her job, but the pile of dishes threatened to fall over any moment. She could always refill the sugar dispenser later.

They both worked without talking, the silence between them only broken by plates and utensils clanging together, and the crunch of celery getting sliced. During a quick break to rehydrate herself, Catherine winced in pain as she took a sip of water. She cleared her throat to try and soothe the rawness, but it only exacerbated it.

Once she had finally cleared the sink, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she felt like crying. She blinked away a few tears before they fell, heading out of the kitchen so that Luis wouldn’t catch her feeling sorry for herself.

“Catherine,” he said to her as she was leaving.

Catherine stopped. “Hm?”

There was a moment of silence, as if Luis didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Even his knife held still. “I uh…” he began, before pausing and leaving another silence hang between them. “Thanks for cleaning the dishes.”

“Sure, no problem.”

* * *

Once the dinner rush picked up, a never-ending stream of customers filed in, keeping Catherine and Luis as busy as ever. It became harder for Catherine to hide her cold as it worsened over the course of the evening. Her nose was constantly twitching and running, causing her to sniffle more than she liked, sometimes in front of customers. She even sneezed twice in the dining area while trying to get to the bathroom, but thankfully, both times she’d been very close to the back of the restaurant and the ambient noise in the diner had been loud enough that Luis couldn’t have heard her.

At least the customers are nice, she thought as a trio of middle-aged cameramen explained the intricacies of their job to her, even revealing a few scandalous moments they had witnessed over their career. Normally, Catherine would have wanted to hear more, but not only was the diner full, she also needed to sneeze. Very badly.

Not wanting to be rude, she nodded along to the story, holding her breath steady and scrunching up her nose as subtly as she could, but the tickle persisted. It sent its feathery, tangled roots up her nose, causing a light shiver to run down her back. When she knew she could no longer resist it, she interrupted the gentlemen, her face red with embarrassment.

“S—so sorry but I—ehhh… I’ll be—ehhh right baaahhck…”

She turned towards the bathroom, pressing her fist under her nose and rubbing hard, which only seemed to throw fuel on the fire. Knowing that she would never get to the bathroom in time, she headed for the closest room to her: the office.

Her breath hitched as she passed the counter, blinded by her squinting eyes. In her hurry, she misstepped and lost her balance, grabbing on to the counter to recover and accidentally toppling her glass of water near the cash register. It tumbled down on the ground, splashing water everywhere. Thankfully, as it was made of plastic, it bounced on the ground a few times without breaking.

Catherine didn’t stop to survey the damage. She made a beeline for the office down the hall and barely had time to swing the door shut before her lung sucked a huge gasp of air. She bent down with the force of the fit, the sneezes coming out one after the other without a break.

“EHH’TTSSSSHHHIIOOOO—TSSHHHIIOOOOO—TSSSHHHHH!!... HHhh!! IIH’TSSSSCHIOOOOO!”

When she was finally done, Catherine straightened up, dizzy and panting. She sniffed to contain her runny nose and scanned the room for tissues, locating a box near the printer in the corner. She grabbed a few tissues and blew her nose, thankful for their softness compared to the toilet paper she’d been using.

When she heard the door knob twist behind her, she panicked, throwing the wad of used tissues in the bin next to the desk and spinning around to face the door, trying not to look guilty.

Luis appeared in the doorway, looking more curious than furious.

“What’s going on?”

Catherine opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. She was vividly aware of her hot crimson face, her irritated nose that most likely bore no more makeup after wiping it with the tissues, and the frightened expression that she couldn’t hide.

“I—I thought I heard the phone ring,” she blurted out, pointing at the phone as if accusing it of a murder.

Luis raised an eyebrow, looking around the room before studying her for a moment.

Taking his silence for a show of skepticism, she piled on her lie. “I thought it was the mechanic so I rushed here because I, umm… I just…” she trailed off, running out of steam.

Luis took a few steps towards her, and Catherine could feel herself shrivel up inside. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her. “Everything alright?”

A flash of heat rose from her neck to her already hot cheeks. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Luis crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you are.”

“I’m just tired,” Catherine replied cooly, her fear morphing into indignation. Who was he to tell her how she felt? “I’ll be fine.”

And of course, because nothing ever came easy for Catherine, the tickle returned with a vengeance. It was so strong that she gasped and took a stumbling step back, her nose irresistibly scrunching up. She lifted her arm over her face to cover her nose with her elbow, and her upper body folded down under the force of the release.

“EEH’TTSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless you,” said Luis in an even tone.

He walked around her and grabbed the box of tissues before passing it to Catherine. She pulled a few tissues and wiped her nose sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I knew you were sick the moment you walked in here this morning.” He pointed to her throat. “I can hear it in your voice.”

Catherine kept the tissues over her nose, too mortified to even move.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it from me, but you’re doing a poor job at it.” He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Listen, I don’t care if you’ve got a cold. You think I never worked here with a damn cold? It’s not like I have a replacement.” He paused and looked at her, his feature finally softening just a little bit. “Look… Do you have a fever?”

Catherine shook her head no, lowering the wad of tissues. Luis’ eyes hardened again, and he reached his hand towards her face, placing it on her forehead. He looked up as if concentrating on her temperature.

“You don’t feel too warm.” He removed his hand and leaned back to sit on the corner of his desk. “Listen, as long as you don’t have a fever or a cough, you can work. But wash your hands often.” He waggled a finger at her. “Constantly. Obviously cover your sneezes properly. And if you feel worse, let me know.”

Catherine nodded.

“Back to work then,” Luis said.

A few minutes later, after washing her hands thoroughly and cleaning up the spilled glass of water, Catherine heard the service bell at the kitchen window. She found a cup of steaming tea with lemon slices in it and a dipping saucer full of honey. Luis glanced at her and nodded before returning his attention to his pot of chili.

Catherine smiled and took a sip.

* * *

The cups of tea kept coming almost every 45 minutes on the dot, and Catherine started wondering if he’d set a timer. It was a surprisingly caring gesture coming from someone like Luis, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

However, now when she had to sneeze, she simply went to the hallway next to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of tissues from the box perched on a shelf, and sneezed into it. Another strange quirk from Luis: he would bless her every single time, no matter how many sneezes in a row there were.

Finally, when the dinner rush ended and only a couple of late-night snackers sipped their coffee in the pinkish glow of the setting sun, Catherine allowed herself to sit on a stool at the counter and lay her head on the cold surface. She closed her eyes for a moment, and jerked up when she heard the clink of a saucer being placed in front of her face. Luis had brought the next cup of lemon tea directly to her.

“Go rest,” he said, looking around the diner. “I can take it from here.”

It was only 8 pm, two hours before closing time.

“It’s OK, I can finish the shift,” said Catherine, her voice now a wreck.

Luis shook his head. “You need some sleep if you want to get better. Go to your hotel room and we can see how you feel tomorrow morning.”

Catherine looked down, embarrassed. “Umm. I don’t… I don’t have a hotel room. My car is broken and I still haven’t received my new credit card.”

Luis brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Where did you go last night?”

“I—ehh...” Her nose twitched as yet another irresistible tickle seized her sinuses. She waved a hand in front of her face as if to fan away the sneeze. “H—Hold on… ehhh…”

Luis placed a few napkins in Catherine’s hands. She took them and swiveled around on the stool, burying her nose in the napkins. “EH’TSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Ehh… EH’TSSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless y—“

“’TSSSHHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Excuse me,” said Catherine, congestion dripping from her words. “As I was saying… I slept in my car last night.”

Luis’ usually expressionless face showed a hint of surprise. “Oh.” He shifted on his feet, his gaze fixed on a point behind Catherine. “Alright, go rest in the coffee shop until closing. I’ll figure something out.”

The “coffee shop” was actually a single beat-up brown leather loveseat sitting in the far right corner of the restaurant, where customers could sit down if they wanted a quick cup of coffee and the daily newspaper to start their day. Catherine hadn’t seen anyone use it yet. Probably because it felt out of place and a little cramped, wedged between the end of the counter and the wall.

But right now, sitting down on a couch sounded like heaven to Catherine. She moved her cup of tea to the small coffee table in front of the couch, then flopped down on the torn cushions, her body sinking in. Catherine let out a satisfied sigh, enjoying the heavy embrace of the worn leather, and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Catherine woke herself up sneezing.

“EEH’TSHHHIIOOOO!” She straightened up on the couch, rubbing her nose with her knuckle, but her breath caught in her throat again, fueled by the persistent tickle. “Ehh… EHH’TSHHHIIIOOOO!”

“Bless you. Twice.”

When Catherine opened her eyes, Luis stood in front of her with a box of tissues extended towards her.

“Thank you.” She grabbed the box, fishing a few tissues to blow her nose while Luis sat in front of her on the coffee table. It was made of a thousand small pieces of colorful ceramic arranged together in different patterns. Catherine finished wiping her nose, then pointed at the table. “Did you make that yourself?”

Luis looked down to see where she was pointing. “No, my aunt did. She’s pretty clumsy and keeps breaking the plates she brought with her to the US. They were hand painted by someone in our family, so she kept all the pieces over the years until she had enough to cover this coffee table. And a full dinner table, a few flower pots and way too many trivets.”

Catherine chuckled. “I can relate. My family calls me Cathastrophy. I’ve been fired from at least three jobs for breaking something valuable.” She slapped her hand on her mouth. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Luis shrugged. “So far you haven’t broken anything valuable.”

“Is that a challenge? Because I have to warn you, it won’t end well and nobody will win.”

A rare smile appeared on Luis’ face, brightening his eyes. For a moment, Catherine felt an opening between them, as if the drawbridge of his fortress had been lowered. Yet there was still a distance, like an iron gate moored firmly to the ground.

Catherine looked around, realizing there were no customers left in the restaurant. “How long did I sleep? Is it closing time?”

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before closing. I’m just taking a small break.”

“I better start cleaning the tables and the floor then,” Catherine said, lifting herself from the couch, but Luis put a soft hand on her shoulder, slowing her down.

“No, you keep resting here. I’ll take care of it.” His voice was back to his natural bossy tone.

“I’m fine. The nap really helped, I have more energy now.”

“No,” he got up, putting an end to the argument. “Once I’m done, you can sleep at my place, or I can drive you to a hotel if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

Catherine sat still for a moment, pondering her options. She didn’t want to spend money on a hotel when she was so close to being able to pay for her battery, but she was also worried about being an inconvenience to Luis. He didn’t strike her as a guy who enjoyed having company.

She watched as Luis came back with the broom and started sweeping, lifting the chairs on the tables as he progressed through the dining area. Maybe it was the dust, or maybe just the cold, but a fierce tickle assaulted Catherine’s nose. She ducked to grab a few tissues and burrowed her nostrils in them, hitching helplessly for a few torturous moments before she finally bobbed forward with a triple sneeze.

“Ehh… Hhhh… Oh g—god… Ihhh… IIH’TSHHHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“EEHH’TSHHHIOOOO!”

“Bless you again.”

“Haah… EH’TSHHHIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” A post-sneezing chill shook Catherine’s body. “This sucks,” she groaned, wiping her chapped nose.

She picked up a newspaper lying on the coffee table, eager to distract herself. Not having her cellphone hadn’t bothered her at all for the past two days, mostly because she’d been busy working and being too tired to care after her shift. But now that she was stuck on this couch, her fingers were itching to swipe around a tiny screen, check her Instagram feed and complain about being sick on Twitter. But for now, the newspaper would have to do.

She read the day’s news to the sound of the broom rustling on the floor in a pleasantly rhythmic fashion.

Luis was the first to break their silence. “Where were you going?”

“Uh?” said Catherine, lowering the newspaper. The question had come out of nowhere.

“Before your car broke down. Where were you headed?”

Catherine shrugged, pensive. “Nowhere in particular.”

Luis stopped sweeping, both hands on the broomstick. He looked at her. “You were just driving around? With no goal?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just a road trip to nowhere.” She bit her bottom lip and stared at the newspaper spread open on her lap. “I’m still figuring out where I want to go.”

Luis resumed sweeping, his eyes fixed on the floor. A few beats later, he said “hope you find your way soon,” and they both fell silent again.

* * *

“So your house is behind the restaurant?” Catherine asked as she followed Luis down the small path next to the building, darkness swallowing them whole.

“It’s not exactly a house. It’s just a private entrance to a small space in the back.” He shifted Catherine’s luggage to his other hand.

“Still, that’s clever. Much cheaper than buying another place, or rent—ehh… r—eehh… renting aahhhnother— EEH’TSSSSHIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“EHH’TSSSSHIOOOO!” Catherine lost footing as she sneezed and tripped on something on the ground, unable to distinguish much in the dim light of the moon.

“Ble—Woah!” Luis grabbed her arm at the last second, preventing her from tumbling down.

“Crahhhp… Ehh… EEH’TSSSSHIOOOOO!” She turned away from Luis as he still held her, sneezing towards the ground.

“Bless you.” Luis let her go and resumed walking. “You sneeze a lot.”

“Well, yeah, I have a cold.”

“Still, I’ve never seen someone sneeze so much in a day. And I know you’ve hidden some from me.”

Catherine blushed, thankful for the cover of darkness for once.

“Sorry you don’t feel well,” Luis said with a hint of kindness that took Catherine by surprise for the second time that day. “Hopefully you’ll be better tomorrow morning.”

Catherine didn’t reply, but she knew it wouldn’t be better in the morning. Knowing her luck—or curse—it would be worse. But she was too tired to worry about it or devise any kind of plan. She’d made quite a bit of tips during the day, as if people had taken pity on her because of her cold. She was eager to count everything she had; it might be enough to get her car fixed earlier than anticipated.

Of course she’d still have to wait for the damn credit card.

They arrived at a small lit porch behind the building. Luis swiftly unlocked the door and opened it for Catherine to go in, then walked behind her and flipped the light switch.

The entrance opened straight into a living room, to the left of a large window—the only one in the house. A tiny kitchen took most of the space in the back, with no room for a table or a breakfast bar. There were two doors on the left, one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom.

Catherine walked in the living room, examining the space. It looked like Luis had just moved in and hadn’t had time to decorate. “Bare” was the word that came to Catherine’s mind. The white walls had no paintings, there were no shelves loaded with knick-knacks, and the only picture was black and white, propped up in a frame next to the TV. It was a photo of a much younger-looking Luis and an older woman. Maybe his aunt?

“I don’t have a spare bedroom, but you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch. Let me change the sheets.”

Catherine shook her head. “No, no I can take the couch.” She looked at the three-seaters, which seemed to be an IKEA futon. “Really, you’re doing me a favor, I’d rather sleep on the couch.”

Luis frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but refrained. Catherine could almost see him battling it out in his head, the logical part of himself insisting that the bed was more comfortable for a guest, but also realizing that her comfort wasn’t purely determined by physical needs. He clenched his jaw and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go get some blankets.” He handed Catherine her luggage and disappeared into the bedroom.

Catherine laid her suitcase on the ground and grabbed her pajamas and a toothbrush. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Go ahead. The towels are in the cabinets.”

The prospect of taking a warm shower filled her with joy. She hadn’t had a proper shower in three days, using the restaurant’s bathroom in the morning for a quick “paper towel bath” as she called it. She hoped the steam would also relieve some of the congestion.

She hopped in the shower, turning the knob to the left until the water was as hot as she could withstand, then let the water envelope her. She turned around and bent her head down to expose her sore neck to the stream, rolling her shoulders to loosen up the muscles. She turned back around and let the water run on her face, massaging her sinuses. It didn’t take very long for her nose to clear, waking up a tickle along with it.

Catherine took a step back and cupped her hands over her nose, ready to catch the sneezes. They exploded out of her as if they’d been held back by congestion all day, tearing their way through her raw throat.

“EHH’TSSHIIIOOOOOO!! Hhh… IIH’TSSSHIIIIIOOOOOOO!! ‘TSSSHHHIOOOOOO!! Uhh… EHH’TSHHHHIOOOOOO!! NN’TTSSHHHIOOOOOO!!”

After the intense fit, Catherine’s head pounded, her throat stung, but her sinuses were much clearer. She soaped up her body, shampooed her hair and got out of the shower, longing for a comfortable bed.

After slipping into her pajamas, she padded back to the living room. All the lights were off except for the one over the oven. A fresh cup of tea steamed on the side table next to the unfolded futon. Luis had prepared the bed with three blankets of varying thickness, and a fluffy pillow.

Assuming Luis had already gone to sleep, Catherine sat on the futon and took a sip of tea. The warm liquid soother her irritated throat.

“If you need more blankets, let me know.”

Catherine jumped and shrieked, spilling some of the tea on the bed. “Oh crap, you scared me!” she said, trying to wipe the liquid with her hand, but only managing to spill more as she held the cup in her other hand.

“Give me the mug,” ordered Luis, passing her a paper towel in exchange. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

Catherine laughed, pressing down on the paper towel to help it absorb the tea out of the blanket. “It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve spilled stuff in bed. One time, I spilled an entire jug of milk.” She looked up and laughed even harder when she saw Luis’ expression. “Don’t ask.”

“Your voice…” he said, pointing at his own throat and grimacing. “You don’t sound too good.”

Catherine tried to clear her throat, but she knew it wouldn’t help. “Yeah, it’s pretty rough.”

“I don’t have any medicine. I can get someone to bring some in tomorrow.”

“I should be alright. It’s just a cold.”

Luis approached her and placed a hand on her forehead like he’d done earlier that day. She still couldn’t reconcile how someone as distant and closed off as Luis could be so tender. Did he not realize it? Was this simply part of business for him, making sure his employees were healthy enough to work?

“You feel warm,” he said.

Catherine examined his face as he felt her temperature. There was definitely concern under all those layers of neutrality. Concern and care. His hand lingered on her forehead.

“I just took a hot shower,” she murmured, afraid to break the moment, and at the same time, not knowing how to react. It felt… nice. Like a million butterfly wings kissing her skin as they flew away.

“Right,” Luis said, removing his hand. He cleared his throat and walked back to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. I’m never hungry when I’m sick.”

“Nobody is, but you have to eat anyway.” He opened the fridge. “I don’t have much in here though. I only cook in the restaurant.”

“Did you always want to open your own restaurant?”

Catherine had blurted out the question before it even formed in her head. Possibly the effect of exhaustion, but she was genuinely interested in the answer. She always wondered what made people want to own a restaurant, knowing that they’d have to work their asses off to make an average living while competing with big food chains.

Luis grabbed a loaf of bread on the counter and popped two slices in the toaster. “My aunt worked at a high school cafeteria when I was a kid. While I was in high school, I helped her during lunch to earn some extra money for the family. The food was terrible.”

Catherine laughed. “So it’s not one of those ‘my grandma taught me how to cook’ story?”

“No. I mean my aunt wasn’t bad, but it was just a job for her. I was in charge of cleaning so I didn’t touch the food, but it got me interested in what makes it taste good or bad. I started going to my best friend’s house every day after school because he had cable. I’d watch the Food Network while he did his homework. He got so tired of the Food Network that I had to bargain with him. I’d do his homework if he let me watch one hour.”

Catherine watched Luis talk, transfixed. His face lit up, and confidence oozed from his body language. He spoke animatedly about the jobs he’d landed at several restaurants during high school, and how he’d had to skip college because of a lack of funds, but managed to learn from a few cooks around his hometown.

“I like the diner, I really do,” he said. “It’s my first restaurant. But the only reason I could afford it is because it’s in the middle of nowhere. And when there’s no movie being filmed, it’s not exactly bustling with customers. I want to move up.”

“What’s your goal?”

“This is going to sound cliché, but I want to open a restaurant in San Francisco. I want a nice, small place where I can experiment with food and still sustain a business.” He looked over to the picture next to the TV. “My mother sent me to the US to live with my aunt when I was very young, and I know it was a big sacrifice for her to let me go, but she wanted me to have a better chance in life. I owe it to her to work as hard as I can to be who I want to be. We all owe it to ourselves to strive for something better.”

Catherine nodded. She saw it now, in Luis’ face. It wasn’t coldness or distance, it was resilience and determination. It was an intense focus on finding a way to a better life. She admired him for it, the willpower and the strength it required to keep going day after day with your eyes on the prize.

How many times had she given up, blamed her curse for failing again and again, when really, she hadn’t been trying hard enough?

Maybe she needed to be a little bit more like Luis.

* * *

After a rough night of sneezing, tossing and turning, Catherine awoke to Luis’ hand on her forehead. She groaned, pulling the blankets higher over her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Luis asked.

“Like hell,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. Almost immediately, a fresh tickle forced her to duck under the covers to avoid sneezing on Luis. “HH’TSHHHH-iii! ‘TSHHHH-iii!” With her voice gone, the ending of her sneezes sounded like a pitiful squeak.

“Bless you.” Luis shook his head. “You’re off today. Go back to sleep.”

His tone left no room for argument, but Catherine wasn’t about to protest anyway. In her state, it wouldn’t be fair to the customers to drag herself to the diner and handle their food. And it wouldn’t be fair to her body either. Sure, she wanted to be more like Luis and work harder, but maybe it could wait until she regained her health.

She slept on and off until late afternoon. When she finally got up, she noticed a note on the fridge. “Soup inside. Luis said to eat it. –A” She assumed “A” was Arthur. She’d slept through his visit.

The extra hours of sleep did seem to help. She felt a bit more refreshed and her head wasn’t pounding for the first time in three days. Even her throat had finally left the raw stage, moving on to a dull soreness. Although when she tested her voice, it was still quite rough.

When she fetched something to wear, Catherine noticed her apron in a pile next her luggage and remembered yesterday’s tips stashed in the front pocket. After getting dressed quickly, she sat down on the floor and summed up the money she had accumulated so far. A rush of adrenaline surged in her veins when she realized that she had enough to get the battery replaced.

She went straight to the phone to call the mechanic.

* * *

When Luis came home that night, he brought a bag filled with food for both of them to share. Catherine was happy to see that he’d made more of the tomato soup with star-shaped noodles that Arthur had brought in while she slept. She’d devour it around dinner time, dipping buttered bread into it. Her appetite had finally returned.

“You look much better tonight,” Luis said as they sat on the couch to eat.

Catherine quickly ducked away from him, muffling a few sneezes in her elbow. “EH’TSSSHHH-ii! ‘TSSHHHH… EH’TSSHHH-ii!”

“Bless you. Guess you’re not 100% yet,” said Luis with a chuckle, passing her a box of tissues.

Catherine laughed. “I do feel better, but I guess my nose is still sensitive.”

“Oh, I forgot… There was a letter addressed to you in the mail this morning.” Luis got up to fetch it, throwing it in front of her on the coffee table.

Catherine's eyes opened wide when she saw it.

“Bad news?” asked Luis.

“No, no it’s… It’s just my credit card replacements from the bank.”

“Oh.” Luis sat down next to her. “I guess you can get your car fixed now.”

Catherine bit her bottom lip. “It’s already fixed actually. I had enough to pay for it so the mechanic came today. It’s ready to go.”

They sat in silence, neither of them touching the food. It was clear they both knew what this meant, but weren’t expecting it to come so soon. Catherine felt a mix of pride for having solved her problem by herself, and sadness. She’d grown fond of the diner and Luis over the past few days, and had expected to be “stuck” here for at least another two days.

“Have you figured out where you’re headed?”

Catherine shook her head. “I’ll probably keep going south for a bit and…” She trailed off. “I really don’t know what I want to do.”

She’d never had a goal when she’d left home that Sunday night. Just an urgent need to wander alone. See what the world was made of. What she was made of. But even through all her habitual misfortunes, had she really figured out who she was, or what she wanted to be? Was she supposed to go back home now and find another job? Go back to college? Move to Antartica? Swim to Europe? Nothing called to her still, nothing felt… right.

“You’re still sick,” said Luis, avoiding eye contact. “You should stay a few more days to rest.”

Catherine studied him, surprised by his sudden shyness. “Wait… Are you saying that because you don’t want me to go?”

A subtle blush appeared on his cheeks, and Catherine giggled.

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s been really nice to have you around for the night shift. It makes my job easier.”

“Are you sure? I’ve messed up countless orders, dropped a bunch of stuff, had to take a sick day, and basically invaded your home. And that’s only after three days of employment. Do you really want to test the limits of my curse?”

“I don’t believe in curses. And who cares if you’re a little clumsy, or if you get sick? Big deal, everyone gets sick. The bottom line is, the customers love you. You’re kind, attentive, and you make everyone feel important. Do you know how many regulars asked me where you were today?”

Catherine shrugged, speechless.

“I’ve lost count,” he said, shaking his head. “Too many. The point is, the diner needs you. I need you. I don’t care how many plates you break. I can replace those, but…” Luis paused and looked at her. “Just think about it.”

* * *

At around noon the next day, Catherine cruised on the highway in her Camry. She listened to its engine purr, glad to have her “trusty” steed back. The sun beat down on the road, sending whiffs of baked asphalt through Catherine’s open windows. She took a deep breath through her half congested nose, happy that her sense of smell had almost fully returned.

After driving for a good twenty minutes, Catherine arrived at her destination and hopped out of her car. She pushed the door to the building, listening to the bell announcing her arrival. She walked in and felt a warm rush of familiarity hit her, like coming home after a long vacation. The white walls, the cactus posters, the old ripped couch in the corner… even the sight of Mabel brought joy to Catherine. This was her destination. At least for now.

Luis caught sight of her from the kitchen window and came out to greet her, wiping his hands on a towel. “I thought you were gone,” he said with a hint of relief in his eyes. “I saw your car was gone, and Arthur said you weren’t there when he brought you soup.”

“Oh, I just needed this,” said Catherine, whipping out a brand new smart phone from her back pocket. “I can’t function without it, especially if I’m going to live here for a while. Hopefully you have Wi-Fi though, because reception is pretty s—sp… ehh… spotty— EH’TSSHHIIOOOO!”

“Bless you, sneezy,” said Luis with a smile. “Now get to work.”

Catherine tied her apron behind her back and grabbed her notepad. She still didn’t know what she wanted to do, or where she would ultimately end up. But “here” was a good place to start.

And it felt right.

And of course, everyone else in the conference room was staring at her. Including Charles Brooks, handsome CEO of Empirical Press. Literate, piercing blue-eyed gentlemen, always dressed to the nines. Also known as Liza’s boss’s boss.

Liza sat up straighter, tempting a friendly smile towards Diana. “Yes?”

Try as she might, she could not replay the last five minutes of the discussion in her head as she usually could, a trick she’d learned long ago as a mother. The ability to temporarily filter out the incessant babbling of her daughter when she was younger had been critical for Liza’s mental health, but she had always been able to count on her brain to rewind when the child would suddenly say something odd. For context, of course. Because when your six-year-old asks “what’s a cock,” it’s important to know that she was just watching a documentary about chickens. And don’t ask why she was watching a documentary about chickens.

“If you would stop gallivanting about at frat parties every night, maybe you would have enough energy during the day to pay attention during meetings, Liza.” Diana shot a knowing look towards Charles, as if to say “kids these days,” but Charles didn’t notice. He was looking at Liza with a slight frown.

Liza stared at her notebook on the table, pressing her lips together. She was still getting used to the condescending “millenials” remarks from Diana. While she no longer felt the need to shout “I’M 40 YEARS OLD” in protest every time, it still made her feel guilty for the lie she was living. She’d forget about it for a few hours, and then something like this would happen, and guilt would rear its ugly head all over again. When Liza had faked being 26 years old to get hired at Empirical, she had never expected it to become such a big deal in her day-to-day life. It was a lesson in humility. Age mattered more than people believed.

And now, not only was she lying to all of them, she also wasn’t paying attention during a meeting where she was tasked to take notes. In front of Charles himself, no less. A true employee of the year.

“College students go to frat parties, Diana,” Kelsey said, her annoyance veiled in politeness. “Not working adults.” As a true representative of the millennials, Kelsey never missed an opportunity to correct Diana. Even though it was a lost cause.

“Yes, well,” Diana flicked her manicured hands in the air, heavy bracelets jangling on her wrists, “this is not the point. I’m expecting you to pay attention when I’m talking, Liza. That is what we’re paying you to do. Now, would you please tell us how many submissions we’ve received this month?”

Liza nodded and nervously looked through her notebook. “Of course, let me just…” She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the words but not absorbing the information. Her nose had started tingling, an itch that felt like the light stroke of a goose feather deep within her sinuses. She wiggled her nose, trying to keep a brewing sneeze at bay. All eyes were on her still; this was not the moment to…

“Hh—Ihh’tsshh” Liza turned to her right in time, covering her nose and mouth with her elbow. “Excuse me, I… Ihh’TSSHH!” She registered the few bless you’s her colleagues mumbled, nodding her thanks as she straightened up. Liza knew her face was bright red. She could feel the flush burning her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and squeaked a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that!”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Are we ever going to get those numbers, or do we need to send a request through Snapbook, Liza?”

“Snapchat,” muttered Kelsey.

Liza sniffled. “No, no need, I’ve got them right here.” She paged through the notebook and finally found what she needed. “We’ve gotten less than usual but I haven’t had a chance to log all the submissions this week yet.” She lifted her eyes to meet Diana’s annoyed stare. “With the two ad campaigns and the issues with One Day We’ll Be, I didn’t…”

“Just get it done by tomorrow morning,” Diana cut her off with a steely smile.

For the rest of the meeting, Liza focused her attention on Diana and took overly detailed notes, hoping to redeem herself for her misstep. She wasn’t the kind of woman to take her obligations lightly, and she seldom had moments of distraction like this. Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling the best. She’d woken up exhausted in spite of a full night's sleep, and her head throbbed just a smidge behind her eyes. She could tell that she was coming down with something, but hopefully she’d be able to make it to the weekend before it hit her full force.

When the meeting ended and everyone filed out of the room, Liza walked passed Charles on her way to the door.

“Liza?” His voice sent a shiver down Liza’s spine.

She turned around, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Yes?”

“Everything alright?” His eyes locked with hers in the way they always did. Charles had the type of gaze that seemed able to search one’s soul for the answers to his questions. It was in the way he focused all his attention on the person he was talking to, creating a bubble around them that separated them from the rest of the world.

Liza nodded. She mustered an overenthusiastic “yep!” before turning around and leaving the room.

If there was ever a man that made her feel 26 instead of 40, it was Charles Brooks.

---

Liza pushed the heavy door of her office building, spilling out into New York’s freezing autumn air. She followed a crowd of office workers making their way out for lunch, a chill running through her skin. In the scuffle, someone bumped into her and knocked her purse down, spilling some of its content on the pavement.

“Excuse you…” Liza mumbled, crouching down to retrieve her belongings. She suddenly missed Brooklyn and its quieter streets, friendlier neighbors and actual trees. Time Square was nice for a night out on the town or if you were visiting the city for a few days, but working in the district wasn’t always a thrill. However, she wasn’t here for the New York experience—she was here for the job. Books were her absolute passion, and if getting a career in publishing meant that she’d have to partake in a few elbow brawls on the streets to get it, she was ready to fight.

“Liza.”

Liza looked up, her lipstick in hand, balancing on her heels in a crouched position. She recognized the tie before she even saw his face. Navy silk, polka dotted. Once her eyes reached Charles’s face, Liza was already smiling. “Hey!”

“Here, let me help.” He crouched down to her level, helping her corral her stuff. Liza quickly shoved the used tissues in her pockets, hoping Charles hadn’t noticed them. Gross.

“There’s ‘rush hour,’ and then there’s ‘lunch hour,’” Liza said with a scoff. “I guess even walking is a hazard here.”

Charles smiled, picking up the novel she was currently reading that now laid on the sidewalk. “Murakami,” he said approvingly. “This one isn’t a favorite of the critics. What do you think of it so far?”

Liza’s eyes lit up instantly. “I know the pacing is a bit slow and the story can be repetitive, but there’s something about Murakami’s prose that keeps me coming back. It’s like taking a long, warm bath in the middle of winter, but on the moon. He always manages to create this sense of familiarity and warmth in an unfamiliar world and—“ Liza caught herself babbling away, the words tumbling out at high speeds. “Sorry, you must have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you back.”

Charles chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corner. His laughed matched his well-mannered behavior, a controlled but sexy huff with just enough sincerity to send sparkles through Liza’s stomach. He stood up, then offered his hand to help Liza up. She took it, noticing the warmth of it against her freezing hand.

The wind picked up, slipping through Liza’s open coat. She shivered, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest. Charles’s smile faltered. “You should bundle up, it’s getting colder every day.” He glanced back towards the street. “My taxi is here. Why don’t you share it with me. We can drop you off wherever you need to go.”

“Oh no, thank you, but I could use the walk. The cold will help wake me up.” She smiled. “Better than caffeine!” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did need to wake up, but she wasn’t particularly happy to be in the cold right now. Her entire body seemed to revolt against the temperature change. However, her nose had started to run and tickle, and she did not want to blow it in front of Charles in the back of a taxi. The sheer idea of it was mortifying.

“You sure?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow. She was doing a poor job of keeping her body from shaking.

“Yep! I just need to start walking to warm up.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then.” Charles nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Liza watched him walk to his taxi, his trench coat and gray scarf flapping in the wind. A sudden, sharp prickle caused her to gasp and pitch her head forward into her hands. “Hh—Iiih’TSSHH!” She fished around her purse for a new tissue and dabbed at her nose, groaning. The virus had definitely taken hold.

At least Charles hadn’t been there to witness it.

---

Liza moved to the back of the elevator, balancing a tray of drinks and a paper bag containing her lunch. She’d picked up Diana’s green juice and green smoothie, as requested. “Everyone is spreading their disgusting little germs everywhere in this office,” Diana had told Liza with a repulsed moue. “I don’t have time to get sick. Get me my green juices, double shots.” Ironic, since Liza herself was sick, although Diana didn’t know yet. And Liza intended on keeping it that way. She didn’t want to be sent home and look like an unreliable assistant who keeled over at the first sign of a sniffle. She’d been through much worse than this. Back in the days, she’d be taking care of the kid, cleaning the house, making dinner, setting up doctor appointments and taking care of her sick husband—now ex-husband—while battling her own raging fever.

Liza looked at the third drink in the cup tray—her own. She would have preferred a simple cup of chamomile tea with honey, the remedy she could always count on when sick, but the line at the juice bar had been so long that she’d run out of time. The cashier had recommended a "Detox Elixir" for her cold. Apple cider vinegar, ginger, lemon and cayenne pepper. The dirty yellow muddied drink didn’t look (or smell) appetizing whatsoever. Liza hoped that the sandwich she’d also picked up would help wash the drink down, but she wasn’t holding her breath. She’d watched the employee make it. It was 90% alfalfa sprouts, 5% avocado and 5% dry toasted bread made entirely of nuts. Good thing she wasn’t too hungry anyway.

Walking in the cold had made Liza’s nose even more runny, but she couldn’t wipe it since both of her hands were occupied. She sniffled quietly, trying to ignore people glancing at her when she did so. Every time the elevator stopped at a floor, people squeezed towards the back, forcing Liza into the wall. It was starting to get hot and uncomfortable in there.

And of course, that was when a tickle decided to blossom. Liza scrunched up her nose, hiding behind the to-go cups, but it didn’t even slow down the progression of the itch. It spread all the way down to the tip of her nose, until she could no longer fight it. She promptly shoved the paper bag in her mouth to free her hand and fetch a tissue, but there was no time. With her hand stuck in her purse and her other hand holding the drinks, she bit down hard on the paper bag and turned towards the wall, stifling her sneeze as much as possible.

“Hh—Ihh’Hnxch!... Hh’Hnxch!”

A few people blessed her, and the guy standing next to her chuckled when he saw her struggling with the bag in her mouth. “Cold season, uh?” he said with a compassionate tone. Meanwhile, there was an evident shift in the crowd as people tried to distance themselves from Liza.

Liza managed to get a tissue and wipe her nose, then grabbed the bag out of her mouth. “You’d think I have Ebola,” she mumbled to the man, nodding towards people now a few steps away from her. Some of them turned to glare at her. Oops.

When the elevator finally dinged on her floor, Liza made her way out, welcoming open spaces, fresh air and a little breeze on her sweaty skin. She dropped off her coat at her desk, checking to see if Diana was busy. The elegant woman sat in her glass office, concentrating on her computer monitor. She hadn’t yet noticed Liza.

Liza quickly grabbed a compact mirror from her purse to see how bad she looked. Her nose was bright red and her cheeks were flushed, but she could blame it on the cold wind. She sniffled a bit, testing her sinuses. No sneezes were brewing. It was now or never.

She knocked on the door frame. “I’ve got your juices right here,” Liza said, placing the cups on Diana’s desk.

“About time,” Diana replied without looking up. “I can almost feel the germs floating all around me.” She grabbed the green smoothie and took a sip. Liza started backing up to take her leave, but Diana added: “I need you to find a space for the launch party of Bright & Wonderful. I’m thinking something young and bright, something…” She wriggled her fingers in the air, looking for another adjective.

“Wonderful?” proposed Liza with a smirk.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. Very funny. Just reserve something 'hip.' I’m sure you can do that.”

Liza nodded emphatically, feeling the relentless tickle wake up again in her increasingly congested sinuses. Eager to get out before a sneeze manifested, she started walking out, but Diana interrupted her once again.

“I also need you to contact Mrs. McLure and find out if they’re done drawing the contract. We haven’t heard back from them and we need to lock down the budget for the campaign as soon as possible.”

Liza nodded again, her eyes watering.

“This is top priority, Liza.” Diana glanced at her. “Got it?”

“Mmhmm!”

Diana held Liza’s gaze for a moment, cocking her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No, n-nothing is wrong.” Liza could feel her breath itching, her face scrunching slightly. She had to leave. Now. “Oh, umm…” she gestured towards her desk. “I t—think the phooo…eh… phone is ringing.”

She rushed out, feeling Diana’s eyes on her as she ran straight to the restroom. Once she was safely inside, she grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and let the sneezes overcome her. “Ehh… Hh—Iiih’TSSHH… Hh—Ih’tsshhew… Ahh…Hhh! Hh—Iihh’TSSHH!” Tears were streaming down her face from holding the sneezes back for so long. She blew her nose and washed her hands, sighing.

The door whipped open. “You look like hell,” said Kelsey, stopping next to Liza in front of the mirror to reapply lipstick. “Rough night?”

Liza wiped some of the mascara that had run under her eyes. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Oh no, you can’t let Diana know! She’s such a germophobe. You won’t hear the end of it.”

“How am I supposed to hide this from her?” Liza pointed at her face. “I work three feet from her. She’s always calling me in her office. I can’t run to the bathroom every time I have to sneeze or cough.” Although she was seriously considering it.

“I got you fam,” Kelsey said with a conniving smile, slipping her lipstick back in her purse and leaving the restroom.

“Wait!” Liza cried, following her. “Fam?” she whispered to herself, wondering what the hell that even meant. Every day a new slang or app or “meme” popped up. Keeping up with it was beyond overwhelming at times.

Kelsey walked straight to Diana’s office and popped her head in. “Hey, is it OK if I borrow Liza for a while? I need help with invitations.”

Diana waved her hand at her without looking up. “Sure.”

Kelsey turned and gave two thumbs up to Liza. “Follow me!” They both walked to Kelsey’s office further down the corridor. Two large boxes sat open in the middle of the room. “I was going to have the intern do this, but she’s busy with something else.”

Liza looked at Kelsey, dumbfounded. “Wait, you actually need my help? I thought this was a ploy to get me away from Diana’s germophobia?”

Kelsey put a hand on Liza’s shoulder. “Come on Liza. All you have to do is stuff an invitation and a bookmark in each envelope. It’ll be relaxing! Please? Pretty, pretty please?”

Liza sighed. “Fine. But you’ll catch my cold if I hang out here all afternoon. I’ll bring these in a conference room somewhere.” Liza bent down to grab a box, but Kelsey stopped her.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just take the couch over there. Relax.” She walked to her desk and grabbed a box of Dayquil from her drawer. “Here, help yourself.”

Liza popped two of the orange pills out of the packet. “If I had known you were the drug pusher in the office, I’d have come to you sooner.”

Kelsey laughed. “You bet. This is the good stuff, too. The one you need an ID for.”

“Impressive!” Liza swallowed the pills, then sat on the couch, assessing the task.

“By the way, we’re going to this new bar that opened up in Chelsea. You should come! All the food they serve comes in edible plates, and you eat with edible cutlery. Sounds terrible, but Lauren really wants to check it out.”

Liza scoffed and pointed at her nose. “With this? No thanks.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes. “It’s just a cold, Liza.” She leaned on her desk. “You’ll be fine. Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix,” she added with a conspiring smile.

Liza tried to remember a time in her twenties when she’d gone out with a cold, but couldn’t. Truth be told, she’d always been a bit of a baby when it came to illnesses, at least before she had a kid. She always favored lying on her couch with a heavy blanket and tea. It was a great opportunity to rest and let the world run without her for a few days. Cozy up in the quiet corners of life for a bit.

“Thank you, but I really—“ a tickle interrupted her. She lifted a finger, her eyes fluttering. Kelsey was already on it, handing her a box of tissues. Liza grabbed one and muffled her sneezes in it. “Hh… Iihh'mpphhff! Eh'mppff!”

“Bless you!”

“Thanks. I really wish I could come out tonight, but I’m going to have to stay late and work on the submission logs anyway.”

“Oooh that’s right. Diana was not happy about it this morning. Do you need help?”

“That’s so sweet of you, but no. You should go out. Enjoy eating… dinnerware. Or whatever.”

Kelsey grimaced. “Hopefully it tastes better than Diana’s green juice.”

Liza’s eyes brightened, remembering her sandwich and apple cider vinegar juice that she’d left on her desk. “Actually, I’ve got the perfect juice for you to try if you want to prepare your palate…”

Later, after everyone had gone—including Diana—, Liza went back to her desk to work on the submissions. She’d been working in the darkened office for a few hours, thankful for the quiet, but wishing she could be home in bed. Her cold had progressively worsened. Her throat felt like sandpaper and she’d started coughing a little to clear the irritation. Her eyes were burning the way they do when a fever is creeping up. She’d put on her coat to keep the chills at bay, but her bones still felt cold in spite of the warmth of her skin.

And her nose... The tickle had taken up permanent residence deep within her sinuses. She was constantly sneezing and blowing her nose, reducing her to a proverbial mess. Her bin was overflowing with used tissues.

“Liza?”

Liza froze, her heart stopping for a second. She turned around to see none other than Charles walking down the hallway from his office.

“Charles! You’re still here?”

He chuckled, stopping next to her desk. “So are you. I thought I heard something. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. Working late?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Liza said, or rather croaked. She plastered a smile on her face and subtly cleared her throat.

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.” He examined her, a look of concern in his kind eyes. Liza almost melted.

“Yep, I’m great. Just a bit tired, you know.” With her foot, she pushed the bin overflowing with tissues underneath her desk, away from Charles's view. “Heading out?” She sniffed. A sneeze was definitely incoming. Of course. She slowed her breathing, praying for it to go away.

“Not yet, I still have—“ Charles stopped in the middle of his sentence, looking curiously at Liza as the woman scrunched up her nose.

“I’m so—sorry— Ehh… Iihh’TSSHH.”

“Bless you.”

“Hh’TSSHHHeew!”

“Bless you again.” Charles produced a white handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and offered it to Liza. “Are you sure you’re feeling OK?”

Liza accepted the handkerchief. “Thank you. It’s just…” she shrugged. “Allergies, you know?”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll let you get back to it, but don’t stay too late.”

“Right back at ya!” As soon as she said it, Liza kicked herself internally. Why did she always sound so lame when Charles was around? He gave her a small wave and walked back to his office.

Liza groaned and let her head fall on her keyboard the minute he was out of sight.

“Why me,” she whined.

---

Another hour later, after many stifled, exhausted sneezes and careful wiping of her nose, afraid to make any noise, Liza’s head rested in her hand, leaning over her desk. Her eyes felt heavy, her nose on fire. Her progress had slowed considerably, fatigue taking over her cold-ridden body. She still had quite a few submissions to process, but didn’t know if she could pull through. She considered getting up to get coffee when suddenly, a steaming cup of tea appeared next to her.

She jumped, finding Charles standing over her.

“Ready to admit you’re under the weather?” he asked with a smirk.

Liza’s nose scrunched up, and she buried her face in the handkerchief. “Hh—Ihh’TSSHH”

“Bless you. I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m almost done,” Liza lied. “Thank you though. What is it?” She pointed at the mug.

“Oh, it’s just chamomile tea with a bit of honey. It always works for me when my throat is bothering me.”

Liza smiled. “That sounds perfect.” She took a sip, but her nose protested as soon as the steam hit her sensitive nostrils. “Hh… Hhh! Ihh’TSSHH! Ehh—TSSHhhhew!”

Charles frowned. “Bless you, Liza. You’re sounding worse and worse. I really think you should go home.” He looked at her coat, as if just noticing that she was wearing it indoors. “Do you feel feverish?”

“Oh no, it’s not that bad, I just—“

Charles didn’t wait for her to finish and placed his hand on her forehead. His palm felt cool and protective, tender. Liza closed her eyes briefly, his touch shooting a delicious electric buzz through her body.

“You're definitely running a fever,” he murmured. “Come on, I’m sending you home.” He took out his phone and tapped away. “I’m calling you an Uber. And that’s an order, by the way.” He said it with a hint of humor and tenderness, his voice as calm and poised as always. Liza just nodded, unable to say anything after his forehead feel.

She gathered her belongings and let Charles help her up. “Wait!” Liza’s head cleared up, and she remembered Diana’s request. “I have to finish the submissions by—Ehh… Ihh’TSShhh” Charles tightened his grip on her shoulders as Liza pitched forward with the sneeze.

“Bless you,” he said, frowning again, as if worried she would collapse from exhaustion. “I’ll deal with Diana tomorrow morning. Your only job right now is to get into bed and stay there as long as you need. Alright?”

Liza nodded. They made their way down to the lobby of the building.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Charles took off the scarf he’d worn at lunch, slung over his shoulder. “I noticed you weren’t wearing a scarf earlier today and thought you could use it to keep warm.” He slid it around Liza’s neck a few times, covering her bare skin. “There. That’s better.” He then pushed open the door and held it for her.

The cold air felt like an assault on Liza's feverish body, but she didn't care. Even through her congestion, she could smell Charles’s scarf around her neck. A mix of winter pines, soap and worn books. Charles opened the Uber's door, holding Liza's hand as she slid in.

“Thank you, Charles." Liza said from her seat, looking up at him. He glowed under the street light. "I really appreciate your kindness.”

“Of course, Liza.” Charles locked eyes with her, dimming out the rest of the world around them. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Charles wished her good night and close the door. As the car drove off, Liza closed her eyes.

She knew the dreams to come would be the best fevered dreams she'd ever had.