The Plague and The Introvert

“Oh good–it’s turned into Ebola.” Rich finished blowing his nose and gazed suspiciously into the tissue.

Hunched over under layers of blankets to ward off the chills, I gave him the stink-eye. “J’accuse!” I raised a damning finger at him. (I think you can guess which one.) “You made me sick.”

We are living in a plague house.

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