Thursday, February 19, 2009

Some Bad Food

Trying to write and Cindy stumbles out of the bed. Holding her stomach. Notice the time. Almost midnight. Well past stumbling time for my bride. She's usually observing the back of her eyelids at this point.

"I'm real nauseous," she says. "I hope it wasn't something I ate. Some bad food."

I hope she isn't pregnant and ask, "What can I do to help?"

She shakes her head and goes back into our bedroom. Her and the nausea and Meg.
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