I'll cough myself to death, and then you'll be sorry.

I'm home safe but feeling poorly. And the only optimistic part is that I know I get extra skinny when I'm sick. I'm preparing for the cold medicine tingles. My face is hot, cheeks pink. But I think I look more like a happy little girl than a fatigued grown-up. That's what a barrette will do for you.

I haven't much voice, but what I have I would use to say sweet things. And you would be sweetened by them. And then I would cough all over you.

The night has been called one.