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Colds are Evil

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I sniffed dejectedly and held my hand out for another tissue. Will held one out for me and I blew my nose gratefully.
“This stinks,” I grumbled.
“Tell be aboud id,” Will said, his words distorted even worse than mine because of how stuffed up his nose was.
“I’m sorry I got you sick too,” I sighed. “You should have stayed away and waited ‘til I got better. Now we’re both stuck in bed, bored out of our minds.”
“It’s nod thad bad if I ged to stay wid you,” he reasoned.
“Colds are evil,” I declared quietly.
“Like sand?” Will asked, smiling and squeezing the arm that was wrapped around my shoulders while we lay in my bed.
I grinned.
“Colds are more evil,” I decided.
Will pretended to think about it for a long minute.
“Yeah,” he agreed softly, putting his head back down on my pillow and closing his eyes.
I did, too, and we both tried to sleep away the horribly evil cold that plagued us yet brought us closer at the same time.
And to this day, I still maintain that colds are evil.





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